The Sam Winchester School of Hunting
by liron-aria
Summary: Throughout the course of his hunting career, Sam Winchester finds himself unwittingly mentoring the next generation of hunters. He's not sure who thought it would be a good idea to make him a role model and authority figure for anyone, but his kids don't particularly care. Most of them are convinced he hung the stars in the sky, anyway.
1. Finding Home

A/N: I am not actually sure where this came from. But these kids (and Sam) have taken over my life.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Sam was the one who sought Jacob out. He was Amy's son, and Amy had been his friend, until Dean killed her. So in a twisted way, that made Jacob Sam's responsibility.

If he had left things alone, maybe Amy wouldn't have turned up on Dean's radar. Or maybe she would have anyway, and he'd never have found out about Jacob until Dean killed Amy. Sam had no use for what-ifs, though, and keeping a pre-teen kitsune off hunter radar was job enough.

Jacob was a quick study. Angry, smart, and stubborn - just like Sam at the same age. He learned the tricks Sam taught him - digging graves, breaking into the morgue, hustling, keeping his head down and his temper in check - and swore with every other breath that one day he would kill Dean.

Sam didn't bother to counter him. He knew revenge, and that somehow, their lives had gone so off- kilter that Dean had become Jacob's Azazel.

A few scant weeks after Amy's death was not the time to say anything.

Sam kept an eye on Jacob in between hunts, sending him money, making sure he wasn't making a terrible mess out of his life. Jacob deciding to become a hunter definitely came close, but Jacob was stubborn, and Sam figured it would be better if he taught Jacob to protect himself and others, instead of letting him charge in blind.

And that was how Sam found himself e-mailing Jacob tips and tricks and long lectures about lore from the bunker.

* * *

Sam kept an eye on Lisa and Ben.

He kept an eye on a lot of people at the end of the day, old friends and acquaintances, just to make sure they were alright. He never contacted them, never let them know he was checking in, and sometimes felt like a total creeper, but it was the least he could do, a way of remotely protecting them.

So he knew Lisa and Ben had been struggling after Dean had Castiel wipe their minds. He knew about the therapy sessions. He knew when Lisa was checked into the hospital and didn't check back out.

He shouldn't have gone to the hospital.

But with Dean busy being "poison" God only knew where, it wasn't like there was anyone to stop him.

He shouldn't have gone to the hospital. But, like with Jacob a few years ago, he felt responsible.

In hindsight, he was glad he did.

Lisa lay still and small amidst the white sheets of the hospital bed, wires and tubes attached all over. Ben stood at his mother's bedside with his fists clenched, and looked remarkably unsurprised to see Sam there.

"I was wondering if one of you would show up. Sam, right?"

Sam's eyebrows rose slightly and he inclined his head. "Ben."

Ben looked back at his mother. "I was kinda hoping Dean would come. But I guess I know where Mom and I stand with _him._"

Oh, this was going to end well. "You, uh, you remember?"

Ben snorted bitterly. "Bits and pieces. The memories started coming back a couple months ago. I had nightmares. Mom had hallucinations. And then -"

Ben broke off, rubbing furiously at his eyes. Sam could fill in the blanks. Lisa's mind hadn't been able to take the strain of her returning memories, and she'd slipped into a coma.

"How could he do this to us?" Ben hissed, "I thought he -"

"Dean loved you," Sam found himself saying, almost by rote, "He wanted to protect you and your Mom."

"Protect?! _This isn't protection!_" Ben gestured between himself and Lisa, "This isn't love! You don't - you don't mind-wipe the people you love! He left us _defenseless!_"

"That was never his intention, Ben," Sam responded gently.

Ben telegraphed his punch really loudly, but Sam didn't block it. The kid was fourteen and untrained, he didn't even have the same force behind his punch as Sam had at twelve.

"Fuck his _intentions!_" Ben seethed, massaging his hand, because, fuck, Sam was made of granite. "His _intentions _don't help my Mom, or me! His _intentions _are what did this to her!"

Ben looked up at Sam, eyes blazing. "I'm going to make him _pay_. I'm going to make him _pay _for what he did to us."

It was like Jacob all over again. "Don't go down this road, Ben. It's not worth it."

Ben's expression hardened, and Sam could see why Dean wondered about his paternity. "It _is _worth it. Because Dean doesn't get a free pass for - for _violating _us like this, just because he thought he was being _hero. _He didn't have the _right. _And I'm gonna make sure he answers for what he's done."

And because Sam _got it_, because he had nightmares about Gadreel and Kevin and chunks of time he still hadn't recovered, he blurted out, "Not with a punch like that, you're not."

And that was how he found himself training Ben to fight and not get himself killed when he decided to channel his rage into hunting.

* * *

Jesse was the one who sought Sam out.

Well, it was less 'sought out' and more 'cried out for help while running from Abaddon and hunters alike on a case Sam happened to be working while Dean was buried at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.'

Jesse appeared in Sam's motel room, halfway through a meltdown over his demonic powers and Abaddon's servants hunting him.

"Please help me," the boy sobbed as he pitched forward, "I'm not a demon, I'm _not_!"

Sam's eyes widened as he caught him, his mind racing. What was he supposed to do with a crying child?!

Later, he amended his statement to 'what was he supposed to do with a child that had imprinted on him like a baby duckling?'

Because Jesse had.

He'd cried himself to sleep his Sam's hold, and wound up gripping his shirt too tight for Sam to extricate himself. Sam ended up sitting in his motel room trying to go over his research one-handed, absently trying to make sure Jesse wasn't jostled too much.

Kid slept like the dead, anyway.

Kid _also _killed demons with brutal efficiency_, _only stopping from adding the hunters to his body count because Sam asked.

"They hunted me!" Jesse seethed, knocking the hunters unconscious with a flick of his wrist, "They think I'm a monster!"

"So you're gonna prove them right by murdering them?" Sam demanded, forcing himself to keep his hands where Jesse could see them.

Jesse's expression crumpled and Sam found himself with an armful of crying preteen again. "Why can't they just _leave me alone?!_"

Sam swallowed, remembering Tim and Reggie and a bar in the middle of nowhere, wondering the same thing.

"I don't want to be a monster."

"You don't have to be. _Listen _to me, Jesse, you can be more than your blood, more than your powers."

Jesse looked up at him with wide, dark eyes.

"I've been there," Sam admitted, "You don't have to let the bad inside you define you. You can choose to be more."

When Sam got an email two weeks later asking about an Enochian sigil, he buried his face in his hands and groaned. _Of course _Jesse would take his advice to mean he should become a hunter.

* * *

Claire came with Jacob, and Sam was no longer sure how this became his life.

"_Sam! Sam, oh God, shit - I think I'm in trouble." _

Sam's brow furrowed as he pressed his phone closer to his ear. "Jacob? Slow down, I can barely understand a word you're saying."

"_I don't know what do to, Sam, there's - there was this guy following us, harassing Claire, and he got all glowy and shit and then Claire flipped out -" _

"Jacob -"

"_Like, I'm talking sudden ninja blood mage and the glowy dude outed me as a kitsune and I bolted when Claire pulled out a knife like a fucking coward - I mean, I could have taken her, but I really like her -" _

"_Jacob!" _

Jacob fell silent. Sam huffed softly. "Okay, try again, slowly. What's going on?

"_There's a glowy dude harassing me and my girlfriend, and I think my girlfriend might actually be a hunter." _

Sam bit back a sigh. Of course. This would happen to him, of all people. He found Jacob fighting off an angel alongside blonde _Claire Novak _in the middle of a park one city over. Somehow, he should have seen that coming.

"You know, picking on kids is a new low for your kind," he said by way of greeting.

"Stay out of this, Abomination," the angel snarled, rounding on him.

"Sure." Sam threw his angel blade forward with a twist of his wrist. It sank deep into the angel's chest, lighting him up like a firework. Sam could see where Jacob got the nickname from.

"So I totally need one of those," Jacob said enviously, as Sam retrieved his weapon.

"How about you make it to your next birthday first."

"Did you kill him?" Claire demanded. "How? I banished him, but he just came back."

"Angel blade," Sam replied, "It's the only thing that can kill an angel. Angel banishing is only as permanent as your medium - once your blood dries, you're back on their radar."

Claire swore, and Sam's expression softened. "What did he want with you, Claire?"

The blonde laughed bitterly. "He said I was his true vessel. He kept asking me to let him in, or he'd die."

Shit. "I'm so sorry."

"Guess it runs in the family, right?" Sam could see the tears and hysteria building in Claire's eyes.

"We should get you home, Claire. Jacob, help me get the body into the trunk."

Claire watched as Sam and Jacob loaded the body into the trunk of Sam's car and demanded, "Teach me to hunt."

Jacob slammed the trunk shut harder than necessary as he and Sam whirled around. "What?! No!"

"Why not?" Claire demanded.

Sam shook his head. "You're a kid, Claire, you don't know what you're asking."

"Jacob's a kid, too!"

"Yeah, but I have poison claws and super strength," Jacob replied bluntly, looking between Sam and Claire.

Sam shot him a look and turned back to Claire. "Claire, Jacob and I are in the life because we have to be. There's no getting out for us. You're different - you have a Mom waiting for you at home, friends, a life. Once you go down this road, you lose all that."

"I have _been _on this road for _five years, _Sam Winchester! _Five years_, since Castiel came and took my father away. My Mom's too hopped up on antidepressants to notice what's going on in her life, and Jacob's the first person I've opened up in years! Don't tell me about what I can lose - I already _have._"

Sam's expression was pained. "Claire -"

"They won't leave me alone, Sam," Claire continued, eyes dark, two spots of color on her cheeks, "That meteor shower a year ago - that was angels falling, wasn't it? I've read all the lore I can get my hands on - Ansiel wasn't even the first. My bloodline makes me an attractive vessel, even to the angels I _wasn't _made for."

Oh, God, really? It was like Gadreel all over again.

"You already know how to protect yourself," Sam pointed out.

"Not well enough. Not well enough to make sure others don't suffer the way my family did."

"So that's your plan? Go out and hunt rogue angels?"

Claire jutted her chin forward. "Maybe. I'll do it with or without you, Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "This is about Castiel, isn't it?"

"So what if it is?" It was Jacob who asked, not Claire.

When Sam and Claire turned to him, the kitsune shrugged. "Come on, man. You trained me to hunt knowing that one day, I'm going to try and kill your brother. The way I see it, Claire's reasons are just the same as mine."

Sam's lips thinned. "What's your GPA?"

Claire looked nonplussed. "3.8, why?"

Sam huffed. He was so going to end up regretting this. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I live twenty minutes away, so I will train you the the way I trained Jacob. I will teach you angelic lore, and I will teach you to hunt - _on the condition that you keep your grades up._"

Claire's eyes widened. "... Why?"

"Because one day, you're going to realize that hunting is a cold and empty life, and I want you to have something to fall back on. One day, you're going to want out, and I don't want you trapped."

Claire looked at Sam for a long moment, as if she was seeing through him, and nodded. "Alright, get in the car. First lesson: how to properly dispose of a body."

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	2. Spread Your Wings

A/N: Consistent sized ficlets is not a thing for this universe, sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Given that he somehow wound up training four angry kids to be hunters, Sam shouldn't have been surprised when they started crossing paths with other hunters.

Though he could _really_ have done without finding Ben and Tracy Bell in bed together.

"You do know he's fifteen, right?" Sam said exasperatedly as they teenagers scrambled to get dressed.

_"Sam!"_

_"What?! _You told me you were over sixteen, you dick!"

Ben responded by cursing Sam.

"Some of us take informed consent seriously, Ben," Sam replied, "What are you even doing here? Don't you have finals right now?"

"Okay, dude, it is really creepy that you know that, and I took mine early. My Aunt's visiting friends in town. I helped Tracy with a salt-n-burn, and we hit it off."

"Right," Sam muttered dryly, "And it's the end of May. Everyone has finals right now."

Ben opened his mouth and found he had no response. Instead, he scowled.

Sam shook his head. "Anyway, Tamara's tackling what looks like a selkie swarm over in Michigan and wants to know if you want in, Tracy."

Tracy's eyes widened. "Oh, Hell yes."

Ben perked up, curious. "Selkies are real? Like the whole seal-people thing?"

"Not exactly," Sam replied, handing Tracy a folder, "They've got black eyes and sharp teeth and gray skin - they look more like the mermaids from the fourth Harry Potter movie than seals. They're mostly found off the shores of Scotland, and this is the first sighting near a freshwater body. Normally, they're pretty tame, don't go around causing trouble, but male selkies become unstable the longer they're out of the water. Once they start attacking people, there's no going back, and they need to be put down."

"How do you kill them?"

"Fatal wounds will do, gunshot are the best. That's what I used, anyway.

Tracy looked up from the folder curiously. "You've taken out selkies before?"

Sam nodded with a faint smile. "I went to Scotland during one of my college breaks. There was a huge infestation there. Cleared it up with Dean and a local breaker - that's what they call hunters."

"… You went to _college_?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "That's the part you're stuck on?"

Tracy shrugged as Ben peered over her shoulder at the information in the folder. "You just don't seem the type."

"It was a long time ago."

"What about female selkies?" Ben asked, "Don't they go loco?"

"Not independently like the males, no. They'll attack if provoked and defend their mates, but they're generally pretty stable. The breakers think it's because the female selkies are more empathic and better at forming long-term bonds with humans, especially since they can bear children. Male selkies are tied primarily to the water, and being on land slowly drives them insane."

"Can't they just go back every now and then?"

Sam shook his head. "As far as we can tell, they have to pick one or the other."

Sam's phone rang then, and he excused himself to take the call.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Tracy…"

"Ben." Tracy's lips twisted wryly. "Look, you're a nice guy, and a decent hunter. But I'm not interested in committing any felonies." The older teen pursed her lips. "Well, no more than usual. No hard feelings?"

Ben smirked, "Sure thing. Just one question - was it as good for you as it was for me?"

Tracy punched his arm. "Don't be a pig, Braeden."

Ben laughed. "Man, I wish I could come with."

"Why don't you?"

"There was a thing with a poltergeist a while back… Sam won't let me take on anything big until I get my fighting skills up to par."

Tracy scoffed. "What is he, your Dad or something?"

Ben started violently. "_No! _Fuck, God no. No way."

"Yeah, he is kind of a freak, isn't he?"

"Sam's a good man," Ben snapped immediately, rearing up, "He's saved the _world_, alright. If it weren't for him, we'd all be dead right now."

Tracy's expression cooled. "Trust me, Ben, plenty of people are dead _because _of him. I'd say it's a fair trade."

"He stopped the Apocalypse and _went to Hell for it,_" Ben snarled, because he remembered this, remembered eavesdropping on Dean and his Mom when she finally got him to talk. He knew the truth and he knew Sam, implacable, fussy, gentle Sam with a wry sense of humor and a brain bigger than Einstein's who taught him to fight and control his rage so he didn't hurt anyone. Sam was a hero and he knew _that_, even if he still knew jack all about what really went down the years Dean spent in his life.

Sam's return was a welcome distraction from Ben's darkening mood.

"Alright," the older hunter announced, "That's my cue to head out. I just stopped by to drop off the intel… and keep you from committing more felonies than necessary, I guess." Sam frowned, looking between Ben and Tracy. "Everything alright with you two?"

"Fine."

"Peachy."

Looking between the teenagers with their metaphorical hackles raised, Sam decided discretion was the better part of valor and nodded.

"You're not coming with?" Tracy asked.

Sam shook his head. "Dean and I are looking into one of Abaddon's factories in Montana."

Tracy noticed the way Ben's face twisted at the mention of Dean and shook her head. "Right, the soulless people. You Winchesters get into crazy shit, you know that?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah. Story of our lives, trust me. Anyway, you run into trouble with the selkies, give me a call."

Tracy looked at Sam for a moment, considering everything she'd heard about the Winchesters, and then Ben and his reactions. "… I may just take you up on that, Winchester."

Sam blinked, as if surprised, and nodded. "Ben, you need a ride?"

Ben stretched leisurely. "Yeah, thanks, man. My Aunt thinks I'm at the Gamestop down on Oakland, because all teenagers play video games, I guess."

Sam chuckled and held open the door. "Alright, come on, Hotshot."

Tracy watched as Ben made a face at Sam and followed him out. Her thoughts drifted back to her father, a social worker before his death. She'd asked him why he put so much time and effort into the kids he helped. Even now, she could hear his answer.

_'Sometimes, it's the kids that deny they need a mentor that need one the most.'_

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	3. Family

A/N: Consistent sized ficlets is not a thing for this universe, sorry. Neither is writing style, when it comes down to it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

It wasn't always about hunting.

Sometimes, it was about Ben fighting with his Aunt and storming out of the house, fully intent on never returning, only to be talked down by Sam. Ben called him in the middle of the night, begging for a hunt, and Sam saw right through him. It took a four-hour conversation and Sam talking about the times he had run away, too, and the freedom and the loneliness and everything he missed before Ben admitted he didn't want to run away, he just wanted his Aunt to _understand. _He just wanted her to understand that he _couldn't _let go of his Mom, no matter what the doctors said, and that he _couldn't _just play nice with the other kids in school because none of them had been through the tragedy he had. It took four hours of Sam's patient, gentle logic before Ben returned him to the only family he had left, to try and make things work for just a little while longer.

Sometimes, it was about Jesse waking up from a nightmare in the middle of nowhere and teleporting into Sam's room so that he could bury himself under blankets that smelled of _Sam _and still held psychic traces of the promise of safety. Sam tried not to have a heart attack when he walked in to find Jesse a tired lump under his sheets, but didn't tell him to leave. Instead he put a pillow under his head and tucked him in properly, stroking his hair and murmuring a song Jess used to sing to him. Jesse didn't have any more nightmares that night.

Sometimes, it was about Sam putting training on hold for a day to help Claire and Jacob with their World History project. Their topic was Japan, and Jacob spent most of his time complaining about misconceptions about kitsunes while Claire kicked him under the table, threatening to bruise his shins. Sam laughed and gave them ideas for their presentation, sharing lore that he knew of and the history he'd picked up over the years. Claire and Jacob got the highest grade in the class.

It was about Jacob calling Sam at two in the morning to drive him and Claire home from a party because Claire was allergic to something in the latest batch of punch and drunk as he was, he knew Sam and his Mom would kill him twice over if he got behind the wheel of a car.

It was about Ben calling Sam in a panic at the beginning of February because he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing about Valentines Day with the girl he'd been sort-of-maybe seeing for a few weeks and then deciding to call _Jacob_, because he was the one with a steady girlfriend.

It was about Claire accidentally texting Sam that all the girls in her school were 'fucking skanks' because she couldn't see clearly through the tears in her eyes. Sam called her back almost immediately, despite being on a hunt at the other end of the country, and found out she was crying her eyes out in the girls' restroom after her classmates had been particularly vicious. Sam let her rant and sob because he remembered high school, when everyone was lost and angry and scared and taking it out on each other.

It was about throwing Jesse a birthday party because he hadn't had a proper one in far too long. Jesse swore up and down that he wasn't crying, not really, but Claire slipped him napkins under the table and kissed his cheek. Jacob and Ben sang 'Happy Birthday' horribly, horribly out of tune, with really cheesy extra verses, until Sam flicked his gaze towards the cooler and Jesse used his powers to dump ice all over them. Jesse's shrieks of laughter echoed throughout the park as Ben and Jacob chased him around and Sam laughed as Claire buried her face in her hands, groaning "_Boys."_

It was about Sam taking Claire shopping for her prom dress because her mother was too busy and Jacob was out of town helping Ben and Krissy Chambers on a wendigo hunt. When Claire mentioned that most guys hated clothes shopping, Sam laughed and told her about all the times he'd been dragged out with Jess while at Stanford.

It wasn't always about hunting. Sometimes, it was just about family.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	4. Gospel Truth

A/N: I wasn't kidding about fluctuating writing styles, guys

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Jacob, as it turns out, enjoys starting bar fights when Sam's insulted, with help from Ben. The Roadhouse 2.0 is a familiar bar in Oklahoma run by a woman named Lindsey. She helps the hunters network and spreads information, but doesn't tolerate any fights breaking out, because her clients aren't always completely hunter-friendly (like that sweet blonde werewolf who waited tables for a few months before hitting the road again). One day, a large group of the Next Generation is celebrating a successful hunt - Ben, Krissy, Aiden, Josephine, Jacob, Claire, Tracy, etc. - and someone else in the crowd makes a derogatory comment about Sam while Jacob's getting (non-alcoholic) drinks, and Jacob doesn't take too kindly to it.

Given Lindsey's previous tendency to break up fights sharp and fast, the other patrons are surprised that she turns a blind eye to Jacob and the other guy's brewing argument. And then Ben joins in, because the guy _will not shut up_, and punches start flying. Claire sips her iced tea and stops Krissy and company from getting involved.

Lindsey doesn't step in until furniture starts breaking, at which point she kicks out the guy badmouthing Sam and tells Jacob and Ben to help her clean up. Jacob and Ben are mulish alpha-male teenagers about it, until Lindsey turns to the other patrons and goes, "Public announcement: You want to start shit about Sam Winchester, you find another bar to do it in, because you're not gonna do it in mine."

After that, Ben and Jacob are the most cheerful, efficient choreboys Lindsey's ever had.

"That was, uh, that was something," Krissy mutters as the chatter in the bar picks up again.

Claire stirs the ice in her glass idly. "Mmm, he had it coming. It's lucky Jesse wasn't around, otherwise things would have started exploding."

"Yeah, but over Sam Winchester?" Tracy asks, "I mean, the guy's nice enough, I guess, but…"

Krissy notices the glint in Claire's eyes and clears her throat. "Well, the Winchester brothers couldn't ask for better defenders."

"Sam," Claire corrects, "Jake and Ben want Dean's head on a pike."

Eyebrows rise all around.

"What's so bad about Dean?"

"Well, he did kill my Mom in front of me," Jacob says, returning to the table.

"And wiped two years of memories from my mind and put my Mom in a coma," Ben adds, eyes hard and smile vicious.

"And Sam?"

Ben, Jacob, and Claire smile. "Well, Sam saved the world. Threw Lucifer back in Hell."

"He's been taking down Abaddon's soul factories - he's the one who figured them out in the first place."

"Guy took out pretty much an entire vamp nest on his own when Claire and I fucked up our second hunt."

"And there was the time when…"

And that's how the bulk of the next generation of hunters get treated to the Gospel of Sam Winchester.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	5. Aaron Bass

A/N: How Aaron Bass joins the Sam Winchester School of Hunting.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Ben calls up Sam one Saturday afternoon, stating without preamble, "_You know I don't speak Yiddish, right?"_

Jacob, who had answered Sam's phone, laughs and puts him on speaker. "Hi, Ben."

_"Hey. Where's Sam?"_

"I'm here," Sam replies, his voice muffled by the bike he's working on, "What's up, Ben?"

Ben huffs. _"This guy I'm supposed to help out, little Jewish dude?"_

"Aaron? Yeah, how is he?"

_"You mean apart from heterosexual life partners with a giant golem?"_

Jacob cackles and Sam looks up over the motorcycle with a furrowed brow.

_"Seriously, Sam, why did you send me_?" Ben whines, _"It's all research in Hebrew and the golem keeps growling at me. Did you mistake me for our resident Antichrist?"_

There's faint sputtering in the background, presumably from Aaron, and Jacob teases, "Be nice to your brother, Ben."

Ben groans, and Sam shakes his head, gesturing for Jacob to hand him a spanner. Jesse's going through a phase where he's taken to calling Ben "bro" at every turn. Jacob thinks it's hilarious because he's the one who convinced Jesse to do it, Claire thinks it's cute, and Ben's mostly confused as to why _he's_ been adopted as an older brother.

"You're the one who wanted to learn more about the hunting world, Ben. Helping the Judah Initiative is a good way to do that. Their problems are a little different from ours."

_"Yes, but the dork would totally be better at this than me!"_

"Don't insult your brother, Ben," Sam replies absently.

Jacob bursts into gleeful laughter and Ben groans, while Sam blinks and mentally reviews his words.

There's a faint yelp across line, followed by Ben's grateful, _"Oh, thank God."_

_"Hey, bro,"_ Jesse greets, _"Hi, Sam, Jake."_

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, Jesse."

_"Munchkin, read this."_

There's a moment of silence, before Jesse comments, _"You know that means 'light' and not 'air,' right?"_

_"What? It does not -"_

_"Yes it does,_ **_this_ **_is 'air' - Ben, your handwriting is_ **_awful_ **_, what are you doing. Go clean your guns or something."_

Ben makes a disgruntled reply, but Jesse's already introducing himself to Aaron and the golem.

There's a loud rustle of paper and the sound of someone picking up the phone, before Aaron's voice comes on, slightly aggrieved. _"Sam?"_

"Hey, Aaron. How's it going?"

_"Did I piss you off recently? Is that why you sent me two crazy teenagers?"_

Sam barks a laugh and reaches for a rag. "Ben and Jesse can be a little… off-beat, but they're good kids, good hunters. Ben's an excellent marksman, which should help you with your zombie Nazi problem, since headshots are the most efficient. Jesse's great with languages and spells. And contrary to what his relationship with Jesse would have you believe, Ben's very good with people. He'll help you calm down the other members of the Initiative."

_"… If you say so."_

"Trust me, Aaron, I wouldn't send them to you if I didn't think they could do the job. Besides, if they're with you, they're not trying to hunt down vampire nests on their own."

"I get to do that, though," Jacob adds with a wicked grin, "Because I have super strength and poison claws."

_"We know and we hate you for it,"_ Ben and Jesse chorus, as Sam throws the rag at Jacob's head

Jacob snickers, and Aaron responds, _"I repeat my earlier statement: You're all psychotic."_

Sam laughs, dimples flashing and eyes crinkling at the corners. "Welcome to the world of hunting, Aaron. Give me a call if anything comes up."

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	6. Safety

A/N: Post King of the Damned. The more Dean loses control, the more Sam worries. Jesse just wants to help.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Sam collapsed back onto his bed with a tired groan -

- And promptly bolted back up when he looked to his side to see Jesse standing by his bed.

"Gah - Hey, Jesse." Sam rubbed at his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. "What's up?"

Jesse bit his lip unsurely. "Can... Can I stay here with you tonight? Just for a little bit, I won't bother you -"

Sam's first instinct was to say 'of course' given how many times he'd already found Jesse curled up in his sheets (and possibly his shirts, though it was debatable whether Jacob or Jesse had stolen his green and blue plaid shirt) but a cold flush of anxiety shot through him as he remembered Dean and the Blade.

He sighed, sliding his legs off the bed and turning to face Jesse. "I don't think that's the best idea right now, Jesse."

"... Oh," Jesse said softly, shrinking into himself, and damn, Sam was starting to see why people kept complaining about his puppy eyes. The kid could probably achieve world peace with that look.

"It's not because of you," Sam assured him, one hand soft on Jesse's shoulder, "It's just... Dean's not entirely himself right now, and I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire."

Jesse tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "It's evil, I can feel it."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, me too." He didn't know if it was because it was Lucifer's mark, or because of demonic influence, but he could feel the power of the Mark of Cain and the First Blade resonating in the air, even in the bunker. It made his fingers itch for his Taurus.

"You're not safe here, Jesse, you understand?"

"You're not safe, either!" Jesse protested.

Sam's lips quirked. "Dean's - Dean's my brother. I'll be fine."

"I could stay and help!" Jesse tried again, "My powers -"

"Jesse, it's not your job to protect me."

"But I _could!_"

Sam smiled gently, squeezing his shoulder. "I know, kiddo. But, steer clear of the bunker for a while, okay? For me."

Jesse scowled mutinously, but nodded.

The image of Abaddon's bloody and mutilated corpse flickered at the back of Sam's mind and he steeled himself for his next question. "You know what to do if anything happens to me?"

"Let Ben and Jacob kill Dean?" Jesse asked innocently, eyes wide and guileless.

Sam sputtered. "_No_, Jesse!"

The corner of Jesse's mouth ticked up impishly and Sam chuckled, tousling his hair affectionately. "You tell Ben, Jacob, and Claire what happened, and then you go up to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Jody Mills, okay? She'll take care of you."

Jesse's expression grew somber and he nodded. He bit his lip, and then lurched forward, burying his face in Sam's shoulder, thin arms wrapping around the tall man's neck. "Don't die, Sam."

Sam's breath hitched as his arms came up around Jesse. The words hit him like a punch to the gut; he was used to playing fast and loose with his own life when it came to Dean, anything to save Dean, always willing to give everything of himself.

Sam stroked Jesse's hair, soothing him as Jesse clutched at him. "I'll do my best, Jesse."

Jesse nodded and released Sam, absently leaning into Sam's touch, warm on the side of his neck. Sam smiled gently. "Take care of yourself, Jesse."

"Bye, Sam."

Jesse disappeared in a flicker of shadow and Sam sighed tiredly, rubbing his face again. Anxiety warred with exhaustion in his veins, and his fingers were curled around his gun before he even realised what he was doing.

Sam blinked at the silver handgun and groaned softly, collapsing back on the mattress. He swore softly and closed his eyes.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	7. Demon Heart

A/N: Sam doesn't want his kids getting anywhere near Dean. His kids have other ideas.

This is the full version of how Sam and his kids deal with demon!Dean. I may go back later and flesh this out into a more involved fic, as a prequel and sequel to Broken Faith.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Jesse and Jacob pretty much unequivocally agree that Sam is the closest they have to a father, and will viciously, viciously fight anyone who even looks at Sam wrong.

So when Sam calls off their training one weekend with no explanation despite being in Lebanon, Jacob and Claire know something's wrong, and Jake convinces Jesse to teleport them into the bunker. It takes all of ten seconds for Claire to reach out for Jesse to turn him away, because she knows Sam would never want the youngest of their group to see him like this -

- But it takes all of five seconds for Jesse to bolt over to Sam's side.

The library where they landed is a mess, broken furniture and charred patches all over. Sam's on the ground, red-eyed and ashen-skinned in rumpled clothing, nursing a glass of liquor and staring at files spread out all around him.

"Sam?!"

Sam looks up sharply, knocking his glass aside, hissing as the alcohol splashes over a still-healing cut, and starts to scramble to his feet. "Jesse?! Jacob, Claire - what are you doing here?"

Jacob looks around the room warily. "We came to see if you were alright. That was clearly a good idea."

Sam sighs wearily and runs a hand through his hair. "You shouldn't be here. Go home."

"Not until you tell us what happened," Jesse replies defiantly, looking up with dark, wide eyes.

Claire's pretty sure he pulls out those big puppy eyes just for Sam, because it makes the man fold like a pack of cards.

"Dean…" Sam's face creases in pain as he forces the words out. "Dean's a demon."

Sam looks like he's going to vomit, and Claire frowns. "I thought you guys had anti-possession tattoos?"

Sam laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "Not possessed by one. He _became_ one."

"… Dude, you should have totally let me kill him by now."

"_Jacob!"_ Claire hisses furiously, and the teen ducks his head, mollified. Claire scowls and gestures at him "Go find the kitchen and make breakfast. Jesse, help me get Sam to the Infirmary."

Jesse nods, grabbing Sam's wrist as Sam sputters. "What - no, you should be going _home_, it's not safe here -"

"The bunker's the safest place in the continental United States," Claire replies smoothly and Jesse reminds them all that Jacob isn't always the only one with super strength, "If we're not safe here, we're certainly not going to be safe out there."

Jesse continues to drag Sam towards the bunker's infirmary, and Sam's hit with a flash of memory of him and Dean helping patch John after a particularly brutal hunt and he's suddenly stone-cold sober. Drowning himself in alcohol and grief and obsessiveness is fine for himself, but not with kids around, never with kids around.

He will never let himself make his father's mistakes.

He shifts his hand in Jesse's grip so that he's actually holding his hand and walking beside him instead of being dragged along. Jesse hovers as Claire ushers him into a chair and resolutely ignores his protests that he can patch himself up.

"You know it's not your job to take care of me, right?"

Claire puts her hands on her hips and stares at him levelly, reminding Sam of Jess and Missouri. "If it was any of us - if we were hurting like this, you wouldn't leave us on our own. So we're not going to leave _you_ alone."

"Yeah, but I'm the adult -"

"Jake, Claire, and I put together out-age you," Jesse pipes up, and Sam really needs to learn to defend himself against the kid's face.

He leans back as Claire collects medical supplies and lets Jesse look at a cut on his arm.

"I think I can heal that," Jesse decides, "I learned some spells from a white witch in Paris."

Sam has to wonder when Jesse was in Paris, and then Jesse's swiping his fingers over Sam's cut and muttering in French, leaving behind a pink scar. The teen's lips twist. "It'll scar, though."

Sam cards his fingers through Jesse's hair and smiles. "It's fine, Jesse. Thank you."

Jesse beams, and Sam decides he will probably actually never be able to defend himself against that face, and neither will anyone else.

"Claire, grab the medical tape and the burn dressing, please."

Jesse perks up again, and Sam figures he knows a spell for that, too. Claire frowns slightly as she brings Sam the supplies. "How bad are your ribs?"

Bruised to Hell and back and probably cracked in more than one place, but Sam just smiles reassuringly and replies, "Nothing major, I'll tape them up after I take a shower."

* * *

Down in the kitchen, Jacob shifts a pan on the stove with one hand and holds his phone to his ear with the other. "Ben, how good are you with computers?"

_"… Nnnrgh, good morning to you, too, Jake."_

Jacob snorts. "Rough night?"

_"Brunet. Surprisingly bendy."_

Jacob snorts. "Claire's going to smack you, dude."

_"Which is more action than you'll see, let's be honest."_

"See, now _I'm_ going to smack you, Braeden."

_"In your dreams, Fox-boy. Alright, what do you need me for at this ungodly hour?"_

"I need to get into Sam's laptop."

_"… Would you like me to get you into Fort Knox while I'm at it?"_

"Don't sass - oh, hang on." Jacob jams the phone between his ear and shoulder and slides the pancake in his skillet onto a plate and reaches for the bowl of batter.

_"What are you even doing?"_

"Making pancakes. Your not-dad went batshit and turned into a demon, by the way."

_"… The fuck haven't you killed him yet?_"

"I ask myself this every day," Jacob replies, moving away from the stove to Sam's laptop, "But have you seen Sam's disappointed face? That's, like, a weapon of mass destruction right there. Anyway, what do I do about his laptop?"

_"Ughghgh… Try this…"_

Fifteen minutes and two more pancakes later, Jacob's flipping through Sam's browser history. "Mark of Cain, Cain and Abel, something in Hebrew, something in what I'm pretty sure is Aramaic, Cain and Abel, Book of Enoch, Septuagint versus Vulgate translations of the Bible, Cain, something else in a language I don't know…"

_"Where's Sam, anyway?"_

"Taking a shower and getting harassed by Claire in the Infirmary."

_"I'm gonna go brush my teeth and shower, tell Jesse to pick me up in fifteen minutes. You're going to need all the help you can get if you want Sam to let you in anything involving Dean."_

* * *

When Sam returns to the library, freshly showered, shaved, and feeling more human than he has since Dean - well, since he has since a few days ago, it's to Jesse setting the place to rights with his telekinesis while Claire flips through his notes and files, and Ben and Jacob huddle over his laptop as Jacob repeatedly slaps Ben's hand away from a stack of pancakes.

"… No. Absolutely not," Sam says immediately.

"Too late," Ben replies, leaning back and finally stealing a pancake, "Claire, I'm stealing your boyfriend so he can cook for me forever."

Claire promptly reaches out to flick Ben's ear, and turns to Sam. "Don't you wish, Ben. Sam, if the Mark of Cain is a demonic influence, shouldn't Jesse be able to control it? He might be able to redirect its energy."

Sam rubs his face and bites back a groan. _Teenagers._

It takes two weeks of intense negotiation, tracking demon omens, and liberal use of Jesse's puppy eyes and pleading face before Sam finally caves and figures out a plan to combat Dean that involves all four teenagers.

It fails rather spectacularly when they meet up with Dean, with Jacob unconscious, Claire bleeding, and Ben trying to shield them both, with dead and mutilated bodies all around.

Dean raises the First Blade against the boy he would have once called son and it's only Jesse and Sam screaming "_Dean STOP!_" that freezes him in his tracks.

His muscles tense for a moment, as if he's trying to move but can't, and then he snarls and disappears.

No one's sure if it's Sam or Jesse who actually got through to him.

It takes another two weeks of regrouping, burying themselves in lore, and Sam honing their ability to watch each others' backs before they decide to track down Cain himself.

Jesse proves why he's the Antichrist that Heaven feared by turning Cain's blood to holy water with a blink of his eyes and smiles when he finally starts screaming as Jesse sets it to boil.

Sam curbs Jesse's bloodthirst with touch of his hand on his shoulder and reaches into five thousand years of knowledge gained from archangels he doesn't want to remember - but he _will_, for Dean, there is no suffering he will not endure for Dean - and an hour later, they're leaving with an arsenal of new spells and sigils and plan.

Jesse spends the next week unable to sleep unless Sam's holding him, soothing him and murmuring lowly into his hair that he's not a monster, he's _not_, that his choices are good, that _he_ is _good._

The next time they meet Dean, Jacob and Ben set on him with wild abandon, all violence and years of fury and hatred and grief coming to the fore. Ben shoots him three times with Devil's trap bullets, and Jacob leaves long poisoned gashes up and down his back. Bastard has an angel on call, after all, he'll be fine.

They keep Dean distracted long enough for Claire, Sam, and Jesse to lay down sigils and start up a ritual. Ben and Jacob force Dean to his knees as Jesse grips the Mark of Cain tightly with one hand and the wrests the First Blade from Dean with the other.

Claire chants a spell in Latin while Sam chants in a language only archangels know, one no human is meant to speak and leaves his throat bloody and raw. He feels his energy and traces of Lucifer's grace fill the air and tries not to let bile join the mix.

Jesse reaches for the demonic taint of the Mark of Cain and _pulls,_ forcing all the energy corrupting Dean's soul into the First Blade itself. It's wild and powerful and bucks at his psychic touch, but he's a cambion, the fucking _Antichrist_, and _Sam is counting on him_.

The First Blade glows, shuddering in Jesse's grasp and disintegrates into ash. Half a country away, Cain closes his eyes for the last time.

Dean drops unconscious at Ben and Jacob's feet.

Sam coughs up blood and sinks to his knees, smiling tiredly at his teens, strong and victorious and _brilliant._

And when Dean wakes up a day later, fully healed, confused, disoriented, and still vaguely furious, Sam just laughs in relief.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	8. Broken Faith

A/N: Sam doesn't want anyone caught in the crossfire of this mess with Dean as Knight of Hell, but he doesn't always get a choice. When Claire, Tracy, and Krissy get caught up in Dean's machinations, Sam will stop at nothing to protect them.

This is painful, guys. This severely pushes the T rating on this fic, with violence, Cage flashbacks, and implied non-con. So tread carefully, or skip to the last few section breaks after the nasty stuff. Also, I repeat my earlier statement about not having consistently sized fics, because this one is over 14K words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

"This your first time hunting demons?"

Tracy glanced at the younger girl sitting her truck's passenger seat. She and Krissy had met a few times before, passed e-mails back and forth, but this was their first hunt together. "Not even close. You?"

Krissy nodded. "First time with demons, yeah. I'm better with vampires and your run-of-the-mill monsters."

"Yeah, I heard about the rougaru out west - that was you and Josephine, right?"

Krissy flashed a grin. "Yep! Jo called it her 'graduation celebration.'"

Tracy snorted, her lips quirking up in laughter. "Oh, she _would_."

The truck rounded a corner, approaching an abandoned building, and Tracy asked, "This the place?"

Krissy glanced around. "Crossing of 5th and Granville, that's our stop. They picked an abandoned building? Really?"

"Demons aren't always the brightest. Come on, let's gear up."

* * *

Sam's gaze flicked to the windows of the cars beside him as he walked down the sidewalk. Every so often there was a flash of blonde, quickly hidden. He turned a corner and promptly ducked into an alleyway, waiting in the shadows.

3…

2…

1…

There was a clash of metal and a soft grunt, and Sam had a teenage blonde pinned his hold, his knife at her throat, her own twisted to point at her gut. "Gotta get your reaction time up, Claire."

"Dammit, Sam!"

Sam held Claire a moment more and then let her go, crossing his arms and frowning. "What are you doing here, Claire?"

Claire squared her shoulder, a mutinous glint in her eyes. She replied coolly, "I was just checking out leads on a hunt. What are _you_ doing here?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Without backup and your pretty blonde hair flashing in every car window beside me for ten blocks?"

Claire winced. "Sam…"

"No, Claire."

"I'm not incompetent, Sam!"

"Claire, you let _me_ get the jump on you, there's no way I'm letting you near Dean and what's probably a horde of demons, not after last time."

Claire scowled. "I'm _here_, Sam. And as good a hunter as you are, you can't take on all that by yourself, either, not without -"

Claire cut herself off abruptly, and Sam's other eyebrow rose. "Not without…?"

Claire exhaled slowly. "Not without risking something you _shouldn't._"

Okay, so he wasn't exactly subtle about the lengths he would go to for Dean.

"Claire-"

"I'm here, Sam, and I'm going to do my job."

"Your _job_ is being a high school student."

"You gonna stand here arguing with me, or let me help? Because I'm heading to the epicenter of those omens with or without you."

Sam bit back a groan. _Teenagers._ He had _not_ been this much of a terror at the same age. "You stay behind me, you keep alert, and you do exactly what I say, understand? And if I tell you to run, you get the Hell of out dodge."

Claire pursed her lips at the last statement, but nodded.

"Alright. Then let's get to the crossing of 5th and Granville."

* * *

Sam frowned as he spotted a truck outside the abandoned building he and Claire were scoping out. He knew he'd seen it before.

"Claire, do you have Tracy Bell's number?"

Claire pulled out her phone. "Uhh… yeah."

"Call her. Now."

Claire frowned, but did as told. "Hey, Tracy?"

_Little busy here, Claire._

Sam gestured for the phone, and Claire passed it to him. "Tracy, tell me you're not in a building off the intersection of 5th Street and Granville Avenue."

_How the fuck do you know that, Winchester?!_

"Tracy, you need to get out of there, you have no idea what you're dealing with!"

_Kris - Shit, too late-_

Sam's eyes widened. "Krissy?"

There was no answer.

Sam bit back a curse and handed the phone back to Claire. "You stocked up on Devil's Trap bullets?"

Claire nodded, pulling out her gun. "Full clip, and extras."

Sam gripped Ruby's knife. "Let's go."

* * *

Tracy rammed her elbow into a demon's temple as she heard the hiss and scream of another being doused with holy water. "How many of these freaks are there?!"

"I count seven," Krissy replied, ducking and shifting her grip on the knife in her other hand.

A gunshot rang out and the demon on Tracy's left jerked and froze in place. "The fuck? I can't move-"

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis imundus spiritus -_"

Another demon snarled and leaped towards Claire, but Sam was there, stabbing it in the chest, pulling the demon-killing knife free in a glow of red and orange.

_"Omnis satanica potestas -"_

The demons went wild, trying to stop Claire's exorcism, and more poured into the room.

_"This isn't seven, Krissy!"_

Krissy was about to respond when Sam tugged her to the left, his knife slashing at the demon coming up on her side.

"Oh, I have _got_ to get me one of those."

"How about you get out of here alive, first," Sam grunted, constantly in motion, keeping an eye on the girls and tracking the number of demons. The building was crawling with them, but the omens hadn't suggested such a large number. Dean was probably suppressing their effects somehow.

Claire was cut off with a cry as she was slammed into the wall, breaking off her exorcism mid-word. Her gun clattered to the ground, and a demon kicked it away with a sneer. "What are you going to do now, bitch?"

"_Claire, get down!_"

Claire ducked as Sam's knife flew over her head, landing in the demon's chest and lighting it up red and orange. She wrenched the demon-killing knife free and came up swinging, slicing the throat of another demon.

"_That, _mostly," Claire huffed.

A quick glance around the room showed Sam grappling with two demons, while Tracy and Krissy fought back to back. There shouldn't have been this many demons here. Even with Sam around, the hunters were _screwed._

Suddenly, a wave of power blasted through the room, knocking everyone off their feet.

"_Holy crap -"_

"Anyone get the number of that semi?"

Sam groaned along with the girls as the room spun around him as he scrambled to get back to his feet. The last time he'd felt that - but it couldn't be -

"Shit, where is it?" Claire muttered, scrabbling for something on the ground.

"Looking for this?"

Claire shot to her feet and the hunters turned at the familiar voice, freezing in place. Dean Winchester stood at the doorway, twirling the knife, his eyes black as coal.

Sam was the first to break the silence. "Dean."

Dean smirked. "Hey, Sammy."

"Get out of him," Krissy hissed furiously, "_Regna terrae, cantate deo_-"

"Oh please," Dean drawled, waving his hand lazily and cutting off Krissy's voice, "Like that's going to work on me."

"Krissy!"

"He's right," Claire said tightly, subtly scanning the room for exit routes, "Dean's not _possessed_ by a demon, he _is_ one."

"Clever girl," Dean said with a grin.

"I learned from the best," Claire spat back.

"Claire," Sam warned, his mind racing. There were too many demons around, and Dean knew about his recorded exorcisms. If he could get to the knife, he stood a fighting chance, though he'd most likely have to tap into things he'd rather not remember.

But for Claire, _for Dean_, he would.

Dean waved his hand again, and another wave of power sent them all crashing back to their knees. "Bind them and get them ready for the ritual," Dean ordered, and the demons around him nodded.

Sam mentally cursed, his gaze fixed on the cruel shade of his brother, as the girls struggled behind him.

This was going to be Hell.

* * *

The demons dragged them to another room, one with runes and an extensive spell lattice etched into the floor. They were shoved roughly onto their knees, demons binding their wrists and ankles behind them. Claire's face was white with tension, and Tracy was swearing under her breath in what Sam was pretty sure was Spanish.

Krissy was trying to get through to Dean. "Dean, come on, this isn't you, I know you're in there somewhere -"

Dean's eyes shifted back to their normal green, and he smiled ruefully. "Sorry, kiddo, just me in here."

Krissy shook her head. "No - the Dean I know would never do this - _become_ this!"

Dean's face twisted in a snarl, and he reached into his jacket. Sam saw a flash of bone and _moved,_ wrenching away from the demons trying to tie him down, and yanked Krissy behind him, raising his other arm to ward off his brother. "_Dean, no!_"

Dean stilled, the First Blade half-drawn, and Sam swallowed. "Don't do something you'll regret."

Dean smirked, pulling out his weapon, and twirling it in his hand. Sam's gaze tracked the Blade's movement. Dean slashed the Blade towards Sam, stopping short of Sam's head and grinning at his brother's flinch. "Aw, relax, Sammy, I'm just messing around."

Dean tapped the Blade against Sam's cheek, drawing it across his lips and grinning further at Sam's hitched breath. He drew back, tossing the Blade between his hands uncaringly.

Sam was so focused on watching the Blade that he missed the vicious kick that sent him sprawling with at least two cracked ribs.

_"Sam!"_

Dean's boot came down on his head, keeping him prone, and Sam struggled to breathe. "Here's the thing, little brother - demons don't really _do_ regret. Kinda the whole point of us being demons."

"Get off him, you monster!" Claire shrieked.

"Shut her up," Dean ordered, and Sam renewed his struggles as Claire's cries were muffled.

"De'n - let'r -go -"

"Wait your turn, Sammy," Dean admonished, grinding his sole into Sam's ear and cheek, "You know, you should be _grateful_, I could be forcing you to lick my boots right now. But I'm not like them, don't worry."

Sam's blood froze in his veins, and there was a rush of static in his ears. Oh God, Lucifer and Michael - how had Dean _known_ - his soulless self. Right. He'd mentioned it to Dean offhand back when he was running around without a soul, unable to feel rage or shame or humiliation over the things he'd been forced to do.

When his head cleared, Dean was still talking. "- Just be a good boy, and don't make me do something I'll _regret._ And you - get him bound _properly_, or the next blood on this Blade will be yours."

Sam winced as he was dragged back up to his knees, rope pinning his wrists and ankles behind him tightly. He glanced over at the girls; Tracy was glaring at Dean, her expression stony, while Krissy and Claire were staring at him, white-faced and terrified.

"It's going to be okay," Sam said lowly, "We're going to get out of this. Don't antagonize him."

Claire clenched her jaw, while Krissy nodded hesitantly and Tracy looked at him sidelong.

Dean paced in front of them, unloading one of the bullets from Claire's gun into his hands. "Devil's Trap bullets, nice. You learn that from Sammy?"

Claire spat in his face in response.

Dean wiped the spittle from his face, looking at it for a moment, and then slammed the gun across her face.

"_Dean!_"

Dean ignored Sam and crouched down in front of Claire, grabbing her chin, fingers digging in, and forced her to look at him. "You try that again, little girl, and I'll put a bullet in you, capice?"

"_Dean_, enough, leave her alone - _she's just a kid!_"

Dean cocked the gun and pointed it at Sam's head without turning towards him. He stared down at Claire. "Now, you gonna apologize, or what?"

Claire swallowed, glancing at Sam. "I - I'm sorry," she whispered.

Dean smiled and stood up, stepping back. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it? A little manners can go a long way, you know?"

Sam resisted the urge to point out that Dean wouldn't know manners if they punched him in the face. He might have gotten away with it a few years ago - well, maybe more than a few - but not now. Not with this caricature of everything dark in his brother.

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam snapped, drawing Dean's attention back to himself, "You could have just killed us out there, fed that damn Blade of yours some blood, and gone on your merry way. But instead you dragged us here. You need us for something, don't you."

Dean snorted. "Always the clever one, aren't you, college boy?"

He strode to the center of the spell lattice, standing by two poles in the center with ropes hanging off them. "You know, the thing about being a demon is that you learn a _ton_ about spells. Some really… disgusting spells. I mean, this stuff is _nasty_, y'know? Eyeballs, tongues, kidneys, you name it. But blood - blood's where it gets interesting."

Sam mentally thanked a God he no longer believed in that Dean had picked up Crowley's penchant for monologuing and stretched his fingers to scratch at his heel, twisting his wrists to cover the motion. He repeated it a few times, until a demon yanked on his hair and growled, "Knock it off, Winchester."

"Something you want to share with the class, Sam?" Dean snapped.

Sam smiled acidly. "No, please continue explaining the twelve uses of blood, Professor."

He kept his fingers at his heel as Dean's expression twisted in fury and a psychic blast sent him crashing back to the ground. He heard Claire's sharp intake of breath and forced himself to focus past the ringing between his ears, blinking until he could see Claire's determined expression clearly.

Good. She was focused on something besides her fear and chaotic emotions. Now he just had to figure out a way to get them out of here.

"Bring her," Dean ordered, pointing at Tracy.

"No, Dean -"

"Let me _go_, you son of a bitch!"

Tracy snarled and struggled as she was dragged into the center of the room. "I'm gonna kill you for this!"

Dean scoffed. "Sure, sweetheart, you go right ahead and do that. Or didn't Sammy tell you?" Dean waved the First Blade in Tracy's face as the demons held her in place in front of him. "This Blade here makes me pretty much immortal."

Tracy sneered.

"Strip her," Dean ordered, and Tracy's eyes widened as she renewed her struggles.

"Fuck you, you sick freak!"

"_Dean, no!"_ Sam shouted, "Dean, Dean, listen to me - leave her alone. Please, Dean -"

Dean held up a hand, stopping the other demons, and looked at Sam irritatedly, "_What_, Sam?"

"You don't have to do this," Sam replied, making his expression as pleading as he could. Dean was long past the stage where his notorious puppy eyes would work on him, but if he could make him think Sam still thought he had a chance of reaching, make him think Sam was too emotional, easy to break - then he had an in. "Please, Dean. If it's blood you want - I'm twice her body mass, I have more blood volume - you don't have to do this. Just let her go."

Sam could see Tracy staring at him with wide eyes, but his gaze was focused on Dean. He was begging on his knees, already roughed up, what more would it _take_ -

Dean smirked. "You gonna make me a better offer, Sammy?"

Like a fly to honey.

Sam swallowed. "Your spell lattice needs blood of the tortured, and my blood - you know it's stronger. After everything…"

Dean's eyebrows rose slightly, as if waiting for Sam to continue. There was malice and mockery in his eyes and Sam felt horror and fear churning in his gut. He hadn't done this in a long time, pretending to break under torture while not breaking and planning his retaliation instead. Michael fell for it more often than Lucifer did, and Dean - Dean was more like Michael than any of them wanted to admit.

"Please," Sam begged. He knew this game, he'd played it so many times before. "Use me. Hurt _me._"

Dean looked delighted.

_Please, Lucifer, take me, not Adam._

Pain lanced through Sam's scalp as a demon dragged him up by his hair and Sam prayed he hadn't said the last part out loud. Michael hated nothing more than when Sam was too overwhelmed to differentiate him from his brother.

"Oh, little brother," Dean purred, "Be careful what you wish for."

Sam clenched his jaw as demons hauled him in front of Dean, and tried to shoot Tracy a reassuring look as she was manhandled back to the other girls.

"Lose the jacket."

Sam's fists clenched as the rope tying his wrists together was removed. Now was an ideal time to make a break for it, and he might have considered it if it was just him. Instead, he let them pull off his jacket and stared up at his brother defiantly, keeping the girls at the corner of his field of vision. Dean gestured at the demons and they hauled him up to his feet. Dean hummed and tapped the First Blade against his collarbone and dragged the tip down, slicing easily through his shirt and undershirt, stinging the skin beneath.

Sam grit his teeth and stared fixedly at a point above Dean's ear. He'd figured this was how things would go when he heard the order to strip Tracy, but he'd thought - what? That Dean would spare him because he was his brother?

He wasn't Dean's brother right now. He was his _prey._

Dean chuckled as he saw Sam's stomach muscles flutter and tighten when his reached the waistband of his jeans. "String him up."

Sam couldn't suppress his faint exhale of relief.

"Don't worry, little brother, I'll let you keep your modesty… for now." Dean patted Sam down as the demons tied Sam's wrists to the top of the poles, checking for weapons, and knelt down at Sam's feet.

"Sir -"

"Relax, boys," Dean said lazily to the demons, one hand on Sam's knee, "Sammy's not going to kick me. Are you, Sammy?"

Sam didn't respond, glaring down stonily.

Dean dug his fingers under Sam's kneecap, snarling, "_Are you_, Sammy."

"No," Sam gasped out, "No, I'm not, Dean."

Dean smirked and patted the side of Sam's leg. "Good boy."

He pulled off Sam's shoes and socks, taking away the knives Sam had strapped to his ankles. He tied Sam's ankles to the poles to he was spread-eagled between them and stepped back to admire his handiwork. "Now, the fun can begin."

"Fuck you."

Dean lashed out lightning fast with the Blade and Sam choked down on a cry as a gash opened up across his abdomen. "So eager to bleed, Sam?"

Sam clawed that the ropes holding his arms and refused to answer.

Dean slid the Blade into Sam's shoulder, and _Jesus Christ,_ it hurt like a _bitch_, but he'd had worse, he'd had so much worse, so he grit his teeth and forced himself to breathe through the pain. Dean slid the Blade free and watched Sam's blood run down in rivulets and drip down onto the floor. He nodded, satisfied, and moved the Blade to Sam's arm, tracing along a blood vessel.

"You know, you're going to scream, Sam," Dean said, turning to set the Blade down on a cart one of the demons had brought in. He picked up a whip and looked it over. "You might as well save us both the trouble and start now."

Sam snorted. "You really think your measly ten years of experience is going to do anything to me that hasn't already been done?"

Dean snapped the whip across Sam's chest in response.

Sam bucked against his restraints, biting into his lip as his face creased in pain and fire raced across his chest. His breath huffed in and out in labored pants as he will himself to think past the pain. When he finally looked down, a thick red welt spanned his torso, crossing over the gash already bleed over his stomach, smearing the blood across his skin. He clenched his fists and looked up at Dean, lips curving up mockingly.

"That all you got, Dean?"

Dean snorted. "I gotta say, Sam, I expected you to have more appreciation for the finer things. I could draw this out, make you scream for _hours_ before I bled you _dry_."

"You want some music?" Sam sneered, "Maybe get some popcorn for your buddies, make a real show of it?"

Sam's head snapped to the side as Dean punched him.

"You know, I've always hated that mouth on you," Dean said conversationally, as Sam probed his lip with his tongue, checking for a split, "There's really only one thing it's good for."

"I told you, fuck off."

This time, the whip struck Sam's face.

Sam grunted, trying not to make a face. His entire face felt like it was burning, sending static rushing through his brain and whiting out his vision. Dean's aim was beyond excellent, though, and when Sam's vision cleared, he realized Dean had intentionally avoided his eyes.

Dean wanted to _see_ the fight drain out of him, he got off on it.

Lucifer always had.

For a moment, there was no sound besides Sam's labored breathing, and faint, aborted noises from Claire. Sam swore internally. He'd forgotten that watching torture was could be as traumatic as living through it. If Claire couldn't make it…

Sam slowed his breathing and forced himself to relax. It didn't matter. If Claire was too distraught, Sam would find another way. Plan A, Plan B, Plan C… All that mattered was getting the girls out alive. Dean struck out again, lashing the whip over the gash across Sam's stomach again and driving the pain deeper. Sam grunted and retreated into himself, focusing on controlling his breathing and not screaming. This was nothing. He'd withstood worse.

Focus.

Protect the girls.

Protect Ad - protect the girls. Stay in the present. Fuck, if he was already slipping, they were all _screwed._

Focus.

Don't break.

He could do this.

Sam was violently pulled out of his thoughts when a bright flash of pain seared through his neck and robbed him of the ability to breathe.

Dean tugged on the whip coiled around Sam's throat and snarled, "I said _scream_, bitch!"

Sam gasped for air, his hands instinctive twisting in their restraints to try and ease the pressure on his throat. "De-"

Dean pulled on the whip and listened to Sam choke as he stepped closer. "Or I'm gonna start cutting up those little girls you're so desperate to protect."

Sam's eyes widened and he started shaking his head, vision starting to white out from the pain. "Ple - s - De'n -"

"Got something to say, Sammy?"

Sam gasped for air and looked down frantically. Dean rolled his eyes and yanked the whip free, drawing a pained cry from Sam.

"Please," Sam rasped, eyes watering, "Don't hurt them. I'll do it - I'll scream. Whatever you want."

Dean smirked and walked around Sam, slapping the whip lightly against his palm.

When the whip tore across his back, drawing blood, Sam screamed.

* * *

Claire's eyes blurred and burned as she swallowed convulsively around the sob building in her throat. She could barely stop the keening wail that was rising in its place, pressing against her sinuses and making it hard to breathe. She'd known this would be dangerous, she'd expected to get bruised or cut up, but this -

This -

Not Sam. She'd never in her worst nightmares expected to see Sam strung up and screaming, his blood dripping down to feed a spell on the floor. She'd seen him take out a nest of vampires by himself and come out with nothing more than bruises. Sam was strong, Sam was a force of nature when he wanted to be, Sam was unshakable and enduring like a mountain, Sam was -

Sam was -

Sam screamed again and Claire's thoughts skittered away. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of Sam's strained breathing and his blood hitting the floor and the soft thud of Dean's boots on the ground as he walked around Sam, looking him over.

Claire picked at the heel of her boot slowly, feeling for the edge of tape partway along it. Everyone and their mother had told her how impractical high-heeled boots were, how they would ruin her spine and the arch of her foot and something something something, but Claire _liked_ her black boots, liked being a few inches taller, liked the way they looked and made her feel in control.

She especially liked how the heels were hollow and large enough to store a small switchblade in one and spare silver bullets in the other. The boys had looked at her askance when she had spent an afternoon carefully carving out a flap in her heel and making a latch and hinge with black duct tape, but Sam had looked at her like she was curing the common cold.

It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to get over her fear and notice Sam's reminder as he scratched his heel, even when Dean blasted him to the ground. Of _course_ Sam would remember her hidden switchblade, even when she didn't. Sam was constantly planning - even now, when all she could hear were his screams, it was an act, a plan to keep Dean distracted and lower his guard while she and Tracy and Krissy worked to free themselves.

But, oh, _God did it hurt._

Claire kept her hand cupped over the heel of her boot, slowly sliding the small blade into her hand. Sam screamed again and Claire dropped her head onto Krissy's shoulder, her eyes shut tight and shoulders trembling.

Oh God, she couldn't do this.

She had to do this.

Krissy pressed her cheek against Claire's head. "It's going to be okay, Claire," she murmured softly, "We're going to get out of here."

"Krissy, don't react," Claire whispered, her voice steady, "I have a hidden switchblade."

Krissy nodded her cheek against Claire's head, as if trying to comfort her.

"Try not to respond un - unless Sam's screaming," Claire continued, "Use it as cover."

Claire fell silent as Dean paused in his work. When Sam screamed again, she continued, "Work on getting your ankles free if you can, I'll pass my switchblade over to you when I'm done. See if you can get Tracy closer to us."

Claire sniffed and pulled away from Krissy, carefully sliding her switchblade open. Krissy looked at her, brow furrowed. "You alright?"

Claire nodded and smiled tremulously. "I - I will be."

It was time to get to work.

* * *

Sam's chest heaved with every breath and sweat slid into his cuts, stinging and mingling with his blood. His hair was plastered to his neck and forehead and his wrists ached from the strain of his own weight and chafing from the ropes.

This was harder than he remembered. He was out of practice.

With Lucifer, it was a game, hold out as long as possible, taunt and goad to get a different punishment, to get something lighter and _keep holding on._

Michael just liked to hear him scream, to hear him beg. Michael wanted him to know how _unworthy_ he was, _so unworthy so much lesser than the dirt beneath his feet undeserving of mercy of even the merest thought -_

With Michael he could endure, he could plan, because Michael had no patience for mind games. With Lucifer it was cat and mouse, trying to win and _failing, failing, always failing -_

Maybe Dean was more like Lucifer than he thought.

The whip struck again, searing a line from the back of his neck down across his shoulder, and Sam jerked in his restraints, crying out. It hadn't broken skin, and the bruising was going to be spectacular, but he had to put on a show.

And pray that Dean would be satisfied.

Michael never was.

Lucifer thought it was amusing.

He really needed to stop thinking about those two, thinking about the Cage, and the way Michel burned hot while Lucifer burned cold. His skin was on fire and his bones were cold - _No._ He had to stay focused, stay in the present, protect the girls. Make sure Dean was focused on him, _entertained_ by him, so that he'd leave the girls alone.

A few years of respite in the Cage wouldn't have dulled his abilities, but apparently a few years topside would. Pathetic.

Sam twisted his hands against the rope as Dean struck him again, keeping his expression pained. It wasn't hard; the harder part was maintaining focus. The chafing stung like a bitch, but he really needed to break skin, needed to get enough blood on his fingertips for a sigil without alerting Dean to his plan.

"Enough with the chit-chat," one of the demons snapped, and Sam and Dean turned at the sound.

A demon in a female vessel was yanking on Krissy and Tracy's hair, pulling them away from each other.

"Stop it!" Claire cried.

"Shut up," the demon shot back.

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"Just making sure they don't get any ideas, sir."

Claire hunched over, a sob breaking free, and Sam clenched his fists.

"Jesus _Christ_, we were _trying_ to calm down Claire," Tracy cried, "Let go of my fucking hair, bitch!"

Dean snorted, and Sam tugged on his restraints, as if trying to break free. "Dean, please, they're just kids."

Dean turned back to Sam, one eyebrow raised. "What, you think just because they're young, I'm going to let them huddle together and plan a way out? You think I'm that stupid?"

Sam swallowed. "I don't think you're stupid, Dean, I never have. But they're not like us, they weren't raised in the life. Just - just let them be - please, just give them this."

_Please, please, please, beg until your throat bleeds and beg some more, that's the game_

Dean quirked an eyebrow, idly slapping the whip against his hand and smearing Sam's blood across his palm. "Yeah? And what'll _you_ give me in return?"

Sam's thoughts raced. He had an in, he just needed to figure out how to use it. He turned his head to the cart with Dean's tools, and looked it over. There were knives, scalpels, needles -

Oh God.

Of _course_ Lucifer would have taught Alistair _that_, and of _course_ Alistair would have passed on the knowledge to Dean.

Oh God. He couldn't - he _had_ to.

The room around him flickered for the briefest instant.

He had to. For Claire, for Krissy, for Tracy, for Adam.

"The knife," Sam rasped, "You need more blood for the spell. And the needles - there are certain nerve clusters -"

Sam swallowed convulsively, unable to get the words out. He hated it, hated the way Lucifer was able to turn his own body, his own nerves against him. So many tortures in the Cage, his flesh torn from his skin, his blood boiled, and his bones ground to dust - and this was still one of the things he hated the most.

Dean's lips curved up. "Oh, they broke you _good_, didn't they, Sam."

Sam just closed his eyes.

Dean waved dismissively. "Let the girls cuddle, they're going to be dead soon, anyway."

Sam's eyes snapped open, his wrists twisting in his restraints. "Dean!"

Dean smirked, and when he drove a needle into Sam's elbow, Sam's scream wasn't faked at all.

* * *

"Claire, Claire, it's going to be okay," Krissy whispered, "Come on, Claire."

What had started as fake crying had devolved in full-blown, nigh-inconsolable sobbing. "I can't - I can't - _ohgod I can't do this -_"

"Claire - _Claire_," Tracy hissed, pressing into Claire's side. "Hey, hey! Listen to me. You're the one with the plan, kiddo, you got us this far. Come on, you can't quit now."

Claire shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How can I - he's _screaming_, I can't - _Sam_ -"

"You're doing this _for_ Sam," Tracy pressed, "If we get free, we can get him out, alright?"

Sam's screams rose his pitch as he twisted, his neck muscles straining and blood dripping down from fresh cuts that Dean had made. Dean pressed another needle into Sam's elbow, the smirk on his face never wavering.

_"Stop it!_" Claire shrieked, _"_Leave him alone, you monster_, he's your brother!"_

"You worried about your Daddy, little girl?" Dean mocked. "Wait, no, your Daddy's dead, isn't he. And you're clinging to the first guy that comes along to replace him."

"Fuck you," Claire spat furiously, "Don't you _dare_ talk about him!"

"Claire," Sam rasped weakly, eyes hazy with pain, "Don't…"

_Don't antagonize him. Stay quiet, stay in the shadows, you'll survive longer._

But Claire had never been tortured, she didn't know the rules.

"Dean… Please…"

Did those words even have meaning anymore?

"You know, I really love hearing you beg, Sammy, after everything you've put me through."

Sam lowered his gaze, watching his blood drip to the floor. "I'm sorry."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, you always are. You _made me this_, Sam."

"No!" Claire shrieked, "You turned _yourself_ into a demon because of _your own stupid fucking choices!_"

Krissy and Tracy exchanged glances over Claire's head. This was rapidly shifting from 'comfort Claire to get her focused' to 'hold Claire back so she doesn't get killed.'

"Oh, you wanna talk about 'stupid fucking choices?' Sammy here's the top of the class in that, aren't you, Sam?"

Sam looked back up at Dean, his expression heartbroken. Oh no. Dean couldn't be asking him to do this, not in front of Claire, not in front of _Tracy_, who had already lost so much because of him.

"Please… Don't make me do this…"

Dean stepped back, looking between Sam and the girls, before his eyes lit up with cruelty. "You know what? Maybe it's time for an object lesson instead."

Dread coiled in Sam's gut. Dean pressed his knife against his palm and slashed downward.

No.

Please, God, no.

Dean's blood welled up and Sam could feel the itch in his veins, the familiar taste at the back of his throat. Unlike when God had rescued him after he released Lucifer, Castiel hadn't brought back his body back from the Cage addiction-free. He tried to gather his frayed self-control, tried to keep the _want_ from showing on his face.

Control. Focus on the times Lucifer made him choke on his blood, instead of the heady lust and power that came with Ruby and demon blood.

… Okay, as far as coping mechanisms went, that was pretty terrible, but at least fear was preferable to need right now.

"What do you say, Sammy?"

"Go to Hell," Sam spat.

Dean chuckled, "Already been, for your sorry ass, remember?"

Sam clenched his fists and grit his teeth.

"Guess you still have some fire in you," Dean mused. "What do you think, should I follow Yellow-Eyes' lead, give the girls a few drops?"

Sam's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't be thinking… "Dean -"

Dean walked over to Claire, grinning when all three girls shifted back from him. "Open wide, sweetheart, you can be just like Daddy."

"_Dean, no!"_

Claire reared further back from Dean, her grip tight on her switchblade, and stared up at him with fear and disgust.

Dean stretched out his bleeding hand, making a fist, and Sam screamed. "_Dean, wait!"_

Dean turned back to Sam expectantly, and Sam felt his eyes burn as he said, "Give it to me."

"Give what to you?"

Sam's expression crumpled, pain in every line of his face, and he felt his tears break free and roll down his cheeks. "The blood. Give it to me. I…" He swallowed convulsively, struggling to force out the damning words. "I want it."

Dean leered in victory and turned back to Sam, baring his palm. "You want me to feed you demon blood, Sam?"

Sam gave a weak, desperate laugh. "Yeah. I want it. I always do - you know me, your fuck-up junkie little brother."

Sam could feel the tears continue to roll down his cheeks, and his focus start to slip. He blinked and Dean stood in front him, hand outstretched. Need burned through Sam's veins, and he bit hard into his cheek, flooding his mouth with his own blood. He parted his lips and pressed his mouth to Dean's palm, coating his lips and teeth with his brother's blood. He swallowed, praying none of the demon blood had made it past his teeth, praying that Dean would be satisfied.

He'd tried that trick on Ruby once, in the early days when the addiction hadn't set in quite so hard, and he was having second thoughts about what he was doing. She hadn't noticed. Sam hoped it would be enough for Dean, too.

Please, God, let it be enough.

Dean cupped his hand around Sam's cheek, and Sam leaned into the touch despite himself. Dean's fingers were warm and steady, and he couldn't remember the last time his brother had touched him with south gentleness. It was always anger and desperation between them these days, loss and fear and relief all tangled together.

And then Dean smeared his blood over Sam's chin and the sides of his mouth and his nose. His grip shifted, tight on Sam's jaw as he tilted his head up. "Now you look like the monster you really are."

Oh.

_Oh._ Sam knew this game, knew it very well.

"Yes. I do."

Dean's head tilted slightly. "And what do we do with monsters, Sammy?"

The words fell from Sam's lips numbly, by rote. "Monsters should be punished. _I_ deserve to be punished."

The Cage crept in from the corners of his vision.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise and a grin stretched across his face. "Oh, _Sammy_…"

Michael never called him 'Sammy,' it was always 'abomination' or 'filth' or -

Sam blinked, hard, and the Cage disappeared. Fuck. Panic and bile rose up in his throat - he couldn't afford to lose focus and get dragged back into his memories. He needed to stay in the present, needed to get the girls out alive. The girls whose trust and faith he had just lost. Tracy was white-faced with disgust, Krissy was crying, and Claire -

And Claire -

Claire was _furious._

It hurt, more than any injury Dean had doled out to know that he had lost her, that he would lose the boys, too, when they got free. But it didn't matter. He didn't deserve their love and trust to begin with. All that mattered now was getting them out of this mess alive.

Sam twisted his wrists in their restraints, opening his mouth to scream as Dean pressed the knife to his skin again.

* * *

"_I'm going to kill him_," Claire hissed furiously, eyes blazing, "_I'm going to ram that damn Blade into his heart myself._"

Tracy and Krissy exchanged glances again, Krissy blinking the tears out of her eyes.

"You back with us?" Tracy asked lowly.

Claire grit her teeth, glancing back at Sam and Dean. "How well do you know the Rituale Romanum?"

"Pretty well," Tracy replied slowly.

"It didn't work so well last time," Krissy pointed out, "But, yeah, I know it well enough."

"Memorized?"

Tracy and Krissy gave soft assents.

"Okay," Claire said, continuing to fray the rope binding her wrists and ankles, "Sam taught me a shortened version - full second verse of the ritual, first line of the third verse, then lines two and three of the fifth verse. Got that?"

"Yeah."

"I think so."

Claire set her expression, fury still simmering in her eyes. "Repeat it back to me."

Sam had drilled her and Jake and Jesse and Ben a hundred times on their exorcisms, and not just the Rituale Romanum. They knew their spells and sigils and exorcisms backwards and forwards and Ben had even complained that he'd started dreaming about them.

Claire coached the other girls through a few repetitions before she was satisfied. "Alright, what we're going to do is have one person start off the exorcism - only one, and when the demons force you to stop, someone else picks up where they left off, at random. The demons will turn their attention to the second person, and someone else picks up from there. Keep going until the exorcism is done."

Tracy tilted her head. "Like… popcorn prayer?"

Claire turned to her in surprise, nodding. Tracy shrugged slightly. "Church youth group when I was a kid."

Claire's lips twitched slightly. "Same."

"Music was the other word, wasn't it."

Claire hummed in agreement. Tracy looked between her and Sam, impressed. The man had been strung up and tortured and still managed to convey a plan to Claire.

"When do we start?"

Claire bit her lip and looked at Sam. "Sam will give us a sign."

Krissy and Tracy followed her gaze dubiously. Sam's gaze was unfocused as Dean slice into him. "You sure about that."

"… Yeah. And if not, we wait until we're all free, because we'll need to be moving."

"Alright."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Sam felt like he was drifting in a fog, unable to think past the litany of _not Claire not Claire not Adam not Krissy not Tracy not them they're pure they don't deserve this not like me tainted dirty worthless weak I deserve this not them never them _swirling in his brain.

His throat was raw and he could feel his body jerking, so he was probably still screaming enough to keep Dean occupied. Dean would let him know if he wasn't, at any rate.

God, he couldn't do this. He couldn't _afford to._ It was easy to stay in this fog, to drown himself in his own thoughts and retreat into himself. Pay no attention to the outside world, let Dean do whatever he wanted to his body.

Break.

But he wasn't allowed the easy way out, he had never been allowed the easy way. There were three young women counting on him, people he had sworn to protect, and he had no right to escape from his torture while they were still in danger.

Focus.

Control.

Sam's screams increased in pitch, his voice breaking as he clawed himself back to reality. He could feel slickness building on his right wrist - good, he'd finally broken skin. Now it was a matter of collecting enough blood and getting his left wrist to the same condition. It was a matter of holding out until Tracy, Krissy, and Claire were free.

A few minutes later, Dean stopped, humming discontentedly. He walked around Sam, his fingers trailing over Sam's skin and injuries, smearing blood everywhere. Sam closed his eyes and grit his teeth, trying not to shudder or whimper at the touch. He had sometimes had trouble with touch he didn't initiate, even on a good day, and this was the very opposite of a good day.

"I could really do with a fresh palette," Dean mused, his hands trailing down Sam's side, "Good thing you're so big, right Sam?"

Dean's hands settled on Sam's hips, his fingers dipping under the waistband of Sam's jeans, and Sam's heart froze.

No.

He could feel the heat radiating off Dean, searing into his skin despite his injuries.

The room around him flickered, shifting between concrete and plaster and the overwhelming kaleidoscope of the Cage. Fingers dug into his hips like a brand, and no, Lucifer burned cold, but it was Michael's lips at his ear -

"Please," Sam whispered, begging as the cold set in, sinking into his bones, "Don't."

Lucifer - _Dean_, it was _Dean_ behind him, he wasn't in the Cage anymore, _he wasn't_ - chuckled darkly in his ear. "_Make me,_ bitch."

Cold bit in, burning, searing, not again, please, not again, "_Lucifer, please_ -"

A hot flash of pain flared in his side, and Sam was back in the room. Dean chuckled again, radiating smugness. "You break so pretty, Sammy."

Sam listened to the hitch of Claire and Tracy's breaths and hung his head.

_Not Claire._

_Not Krissy._

_Not Tracy._

_Not Adam._

_Everything you do, you do for them. Don't you dare break. Don't you dare._

Sam gripped the ropes and braced himself for the next cut.

* * *

"He's going to pass out from blood loss," Krissy said worriedly, looking back and Sam and Dean, "We need to make a move soon."

Tracy had other concerns. "Did he just call on -"

Claire shot her a vicious glare and elbowed her in the side. The two girls stared at each other, sending Krissy's tension skyrocketing, before Tracy scowled and looked away. She didn't continue speaking.

"How are we doing on the ropes?" Claire murmured.

"Getting there," Krissy replied.

"Good to go," Tracy grunted. She'd worked through the ankle restraints on her own, and pulled out a knife from her calf. It was a miracle no one had noticed her rucking her jeans up to pull it out, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the demons were busy getting off on Sam Winchester getting tortured, she was damn well going to take advantage of the opportunity.

Dean made a cut low on Sam's back, bracing himself on Sam's hip and the younger Winchester jerked, whimpering and choking on a sob. Dean chuckled. "Careful, Sammy, you wouldn't want me to make a mistake."

Sam twitched slightly before going still.

Dean moved back to the cart, setting down the knife and picking up a scalpel. He pressed it to Sam's forehead, above his left eye, and started to drag it down slowly.

Sam eyes fell shut and he stopped breathing.

"Oh God," Claire choked out thickly, "He can't -" The rest of her words were lost as she hunched over, her tears breaking free.

Krissy wasn't much better, head ducked and eyes squeezed tight as if that could stop her tears.

Tracy swore, feeling her own eyes burn. There was a picture forming at the back of her mind, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Had Sam been -

"Quit sniveling," one of the demons snapped.

Dean paused irritatedly and he and Sam looked over to the girls as one of Claire's sobs broke free and Tracy closed her eyes.

"Dean… please…" Sam begged weakly, "Don't - don't make them watch this."

Dean's eyebrows rose as he turned back to his brother. Sam let his eyes cloud over with pain and continued, "Haven't they been through enough? Please, have mercy… you already have me, you don't need them."

"Sam, no," Claire whimpered.

Dean looked between the girls and Sam and snorted. "Mercy's not really in my repertoire. But, you know what? I'm feeling generous, since you've been so good for me. Pick one."

Sam looked up at Dean and blinked.

"Pick one of the girls, and I'll let them go," Dean prompted.

Sam turned his head to see Tracy, Krissy, and Claire looked at him with wide eyes and pale faces. He resisted the urge to lick his lips and replied, "Tracy."

"What -" Tracy whispered, her jaw dropping.

"Tracy? You sure?" Dean asked dubiously.

Sam swallowed and nodded. "She's already been through Hell and back watching demons torture and kill her family. She doesn't need to sit through this, too. Please, Dean."

Dean considered Sam for a moment, and then shrugged. Turning to the demons, he said, "Get the blonde out of here. Do whatever you want with her."

"Dean, _no!_" Sam cried out as Claire struggled, "_Please -_"

Dean's hand snaked out and pressed the scalpel against Sam's neck. "Don't try to play _me_, Sammy. I know all your tricks."

"No!" Claire shrieked as demons dragged her away, "Let me _go!_ Sam, _help me!_"

"Claire!" Sam renewed his struggles against his restraints. "_Dammit, Dean!_"

Dean chuckled as Claire disappeared from the room, her cries fading. "Now, where were we?"

Sam snarled and clenched his fists as he measured the slickness around his wrists. Just a little more, he just needed to get some on his fingertips… And then they were all getting the Hell out of dodge.

* * *

Claire crashed to her knees as she was shoved into another room. She tugged lightly on the ropes on her wrist, they were frayed enough that a strong tug would set her free.

"Oh, we're going to have fun with you, brat," one of the demons chuckled.

"Like Hell you will," Claire snarled, yanking her arms free and kicking her legs apart, "Jesse!"

She came up swinging, her switchblade gleaming dully with her own blood, and sliced one of the demons reaching for her.

"You _bitch!_"

"Jesse, I need you -" Claire managed to cry out as she was flung into a wall.

"Jesse's not coming to save you," the demon pinning her sneered, pressing harder with his powers and walking forward, "Oh, I'm going to _enjoy_ taking you apart."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," a quiet voice said from the back of the room, and the demons all froze in place.

"What - what is this -" one of the demons choked out, struggling to move and failing.

"Turn around and face me," the voice continued, calm and quiet.

As one, the demons turned, only to see a young boy in a T-shirt and jeans, his arm raised towards them and his expression cold. The corner of Jesse's mouth twitched up slightly as he saw the fear enter their eyes and drew his arm down sharply. _"Leave."_

Black smoke started pouring from the vessels' mouth and Jesse's expression remained cold as he forced down and back to Hell.

Bodies dropped to the ground and Claire slid down the wall gratefully. "Oh thank God. Oh thank God, thank _God._"

Jesse's brow furrowed and he made his way quickly to Claire's side. "Claire? What happened - your face -"

Jesse was cut off as Claire tackled him in a hug, nearly bowling him over.

"Claire - what -" Jesse's eyes widened as he stretched out his psychic senses. "Is _Dean_ here?!"

Claire pulled back from him and nodded, trying to get her expression back under control. "Yeah. And we need to go help Sam."

* * *

"How close are you?" Tracy murmured lowly.

"Almost done," Krissy replied. "Damn, look at Sam's wrists."

Tracy glanced up and her eyes widened slightly. "They're completely torn up, what the Hell is he doing?!"

"Maybe it's part of his plan?" Krissy ventured, "He - he has a plan, right? Claire said -"

"And look where that got Claire," Tracy hissed.

There was an explosion further down the building, and several heads turned towards the sound. Dean scowled and gestured to some of the remaining demons. "You, you, and you - go check it out."

Sam grinned, dark and bloody, as Dean was distracted giving orders, and swiped his bloodstained fingers over ropes in a small sigil. Dean turned back just in time to see the poles and ropes holding Sam disappear. "What the Hell -"

Sam dropped to the ground on his hands and knees, chanting, "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis -"_

He stifled a grunt as Dean sent him flying.

" - _satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,_" Krissy picked up immediately, as she and Tracy broke free of their restraints, darting to opposite sides. "_Omnis congregatio et -_"

_"- secta diabolica,_" Tracy continued, ducking under a demon, and slicing at another as it jerked, black smoke starting to pour out. "_Ergo draco maledicte -_"

"_NO!_" Dean roared, eyes reverting to black, and leaped towards Tracy, Blade raised high. Tracy tried to scramble away, but then Sam was there, yanking Tracy back and out of harm's way, and the Blade only sliced a gash up the back of her arm instead of splitting her in half.

_"- Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire,_" Claire chanted, striding into the room with Jesse.

Jesse twisted his wrist, gathering all the demons into one cloud, and finished along with Claire, _"Te rogamus, audi nos!"_

He clenched his fist and the cloud of demons shrieked in agony, crackling and glowing with energy before exploding.

Sam pushed Tracy out of the way as Dean threw himself at Sam with a primal roar, face twisted with bloodlust and fury.

"Jesse, get them out of here!" Sam ordered.

"But -"

"Not a chance," Dean snarled, pinning Sam down and thrusting out his hand towards Jesse and the girls.

He wasn't expecting Sam to slam his hand down on a quickly drawn symbol and turn his power back on him, blasting him into the wall.

Sam grunted as he picked himself. "Getting sloppy, Dean."

Dean sneered. "Guess the demon blood brought back your mojo, hunh, Sammy."

Sam's lips twitched. "Demon blood had nothing to do with it. Five thousand years in the Cage, you think you're the only one who knows how to use the blood of the tortured?"

Dean stood, twirling the Blade in his hands, and Sam shifted so he was between Dean and the others. Dean gaze lit on Jesse as the girls scrambled towards him. "You're lucky the demon brat turned up, but your luck ain't gonna hold out much longer."

Sam smirked slightly. "Luck? No, Dean. I _trained_ Claire, I knew she would understand what to do the minute she got free. Did becoming a demon shave off a few IQ points?"

Dean roared again and dashed towards Sam, and Sam dropped to the ground, his fingers marking out shapes in his blood.

"_Go now,_ Jesse!"

Jesse nodded quickly, latching onto Tracy and Claire's shoulders as Claire grabbed Krissy's arm. A swirl of shadows, and all four were gone.

Sam looked up as his brother slammed into an invisible shield. The girls were safe. Jesse was safe.

It was time to end this.

* * *

Jesse and the girls reappeared in the bunker's Infirmary, stumbling slightly as they reoriented themselves.

"What the Hell -"

"Where are we -"

Claire focused on Jesse urgently. "Jesse -"

"I'm going back," Jesse replied immediately.

Claire nodded and Jesse disappeared.

_"What the Hell?!"_

Claire breathed deeply and turned back to Krissy and Tracy. "We're in the Men of Letters' bunker, in the Infirmary."

"And what was _that_?" Tracy demanded, gesturing towards the spot where Jesse had been.

Claire's face went white with fury. "_He_ is Jesse Turner, and _he_ just saved your life!"

Krissy stepped between Claire and Tracy, trying to calm them. "Guys, come on. We're out, we're safe, let's just take a breath, alright?"

Claire switched gears almost immediately. "R-right, we need, uh, gauze, medical tape, antiseptic…"

"Claire -"

But Claire was already darting away, clumsily gathering supplies.

Tracy sighed. "Claire." She reached out and took the rolls and bottle of antiseptic from Claire's hands. "I got it. It's okay."

Claire's hands shook as Tracy relieved them of their burden, and the tremble spread up her arms and to her shoulders. Krissy braced her, rubbing circles across her back and saying gently, "We're safe, Claire. We got out, we're safe, we're gonna be fine."

Claire shook her head, her expression tight and distraught. "He has to be okay. He has - _he has to._" Claire choked on a sob and buried her head in her hands.

Krissy looked at Tracy pleadingly, unsure what else to do. Tracy cleared her throat. "Look, Claire. Win - _Sam_ - is a tough guy. He was beat to Hell and managed to come up with a plan and kick Dean's ass. He'll - uh, he'll be fine."

Claire nodded weakly, leaning into Krissy as the older girl rubbed her shoulders. Krissy shook her head. "I just… I don't get it. The Dean I know… how could he become this?"

Claire shoved away from Krissy abruptly, spitting acidly, "Probably because he's a fucking abusive shithead who wouldn't know a good life choice if it bit him in the ass!"

Krissy's eyes widened. "That's not - Dean wouldn't -"

Claire cut her off, shrieking, _"I just watched that bastard torture the closest I've had to a father in over five years, do not tell me what he would or would not fucking do!"_

"Okay!" Tracy cut in, now trying to defuse the tension between Krissy and Claire. "How about we _not_ turn on each other and focus on patching ourselves up, okay? Danger's over, let's all just take a deep breath and calm down."

Krissy exhaled softly and nodded, stepping back. Claire seemed to hunch on herself, rubbing her arms and absently noting that there was blood on them. "You're, uh, you're probably going to need stitches for that," she said softly to Tracy. She looked back down to her shaking hands. "I - I can't -"

"That's fine," Tracy replied calmly, "Just grab me antiseptic and a needle and thread, I can do it myself."

Claire nodded jerkily, moving away to collect more supplies.

Krissy sighed, sitting on the edge of a cot. "Can you believe it's not even five in the evening yet? All I want to do is sleep for a _week._"

"Adrenaline crash," Tracy replied wryly, peeling off her shirt, leaving her in a tank top. "I don't think Claire's come down yet."

Krissy bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say something, but then shook her head. "Yeah. It was harder for her, right? Since she's so close to Sam?"

"Mmm," Tracy agreed, "Not something I expected to see, but yeah."

Claire returned with the other supplies, and Tracy craned her head over her shoulder, cursing. "Ugh, that cut _has_ to go right up the part I can't see - Krissy, how good are you at stitches?"

"Uh -"

Krissy's response was cut off by a noise outside the Infirmary, and Claire darted to the doors. "Sam?! _Oh my God!"_

Sam burst into the Infirmary wearing his - extremely dusty - jacket, carrying a slightly less dusty and injured Jesse in his arms. "Claire - washcloth, gloves, water, and butterfly bandages."

Claire nodded and turned away to fetch the items, and Sam laid Jesse down on one of the cots.

"What happened to him?" Krissy asked as Sam moved over to a sink.

"We brought the building down on us," Sam replied, washing his hands and face. "He over exerted himself. He'll be fine in the morning."

Krissy looked dubious, giving Jesse a once-over. He had a large cut on his forehead and his shirtsleeve was bloody. "That looks like it needs stitches."

"Jesse has a faster healing rate," Claire replied, coming back, "As long as he keep the bleeding down, he'll be fine in a couple hours."

"What is he?" Tracy asked, standing stiffly with one hand pressing her shirt back over her injury. "What he did - normal people - normal _humans _- don't do that."

Claire stiffened, and Sam turned back, looking between Tracy and Jesse. "It's up to Jesse to tell you the specifics, but yes, he has powers. He's a good kid, a good hunter. Claire and I trust him with our lives, and he _did_ save yours. He's not going to harm you unless you attack him first."

Claire scowled, hovering protectively over Jesse.

Tracy backed down. "Sure. Whatever."

"How's your arm, Tracy?"

"It'll need stitches, but I can't get to it easily."

Sam nodded, dragging a stool near Jesse's cot and sitting down. "Let me get Jesse patched up and I'll do them for you. Claire, Krissy, what about you?"

"Cut on my lip and some bruises."

"Just bruises."

Sam applied butterfly bandages along the cut on Jesse's forehead, and rolled back his sleeve to do the same to the cut there. Jesse's chest heaved with a deep breath as he weakly returned to awareness, looking around blearily and struggling to sit up.

Sam ushered him back down gently. "Jesse - hey, hey, take it easy -"

"Sam…?"

Sam smiled softly. "Hey, kiddo."

Jesse blinked drowsily. "… Tired."

Sam nodded, shifting the pillows under Jesse's head. "I know, Jesse, just get some rest."

"'M'scared, …"

Sam swallowed and smoothed Jesse's hair back, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Nothing's going to hurt you, bud. I'll watch over you."

"Prom'se?"

"I promise. Go to sleep, Jesse."

"''Kay, Dad…"

Jesse was asleep before Sam could respond. Claire listed at Sam's side, pressing her forehead against his dusty jacket sleeve and curling her hands around his.

Sam blinked down at her. "… Claire?"

Claire muttered something the others couldn't hear and Sam's expression softened. He shifted to bring his free hand to rest on top of Claire's head while she hugged his other arm.

"Hey, hey, you did good, Claire," Sam said, stroking her hair, "You did so good, I am so proud of you."

Claire muttered something unintelligible in response and Sam smiled slightly, shifting his hand to the back of her head to he could rest his head atop hers. "You'll need to let me go sometime, Claire. I need to get you guys patched up."

Claire shook her head.

"I'm gonna end up getting blood in your hair."

"I'll take a shower," Claire replied, louder and clearer than before.

"Which you'll need to let me go for," Sam responded, faintly amused.

Claire finally looked up at Sam, her eyes overbright and her face wet with tears. Sam brought his hand around to cup her face, his thumb brush away a tear. Claire leaned into his touch. "It's over, Claire. I'm here, I'm okay, and it's thanks to you. You don't have to cry anymore."

Claire's eyes fluttered shut, her lips trembling, and Sam tugged her into a full embrace. They stayed like that for a few moments, before Claire's eyes shot open and she pushed away. "You're still bleeding -"

"I'll be fine. Tracy, come here."

Tracy started. "Uh, what?"

"Stitches," Sam prompted, "It'll be a while until we can get you to an ER, so I can do them for you now."

"Uh -"

"Sam's really good," Claire added, hovering beside Sam.

Sam slipped on medical gloves and gestured Tracy over.

Tracy narrowed her eyes. "You fuck this up, Winchester, and I'll put a bullet in you."

Sam snorted. "I've been doing my own stitches since I was twelve. I promise not to mess anything up."

Tracy's eyes widened as Sam wiped antiseptic down her arm to clean up her injury. "How old _are_ you?"

"Older than I ever thought I'd be," Sam replied absently, "You're going to feel a pinch, sorry I don't have good anesthetic on hand."

"It's fine."

A few minutes later Tracy blinked, twisting around to see the line of small, neat stitches running up the back of her arm. "… Wow."

Sam's lips twitched slightly as he reached for the gauze and medical tape. "Thanks."

He looked over the dressing one last time. "You know how to take care of injuries like this, right?"

Tracy nodded.

"Alright, you're good to go. Claire, let me take a look at you."

Claire remained still under Sam's gentle touch, her eyes never leaving his face. Her eyes were wide, still faintly desperate, but she wasn't crying anymore.

"You'll probably need a cold pack for the bruising. We've got some in the third cupboard, you wanna grab some for you and Krissy?"

"Yeah, okay," Claire said softly.

Sam turned to the remaining girl as Claire moved away. "Krissy, your shirt's torn towards the bottom, you sure you're okay?"

Krissy looked down in surprise and pushed up her shirt to reveal a jagged cut above her hip. "… Oh. I don't even know where I got that."

Sam waved her over and took a look at it. "Looks like it was made by metal. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"Last year," Krissy replied, wincing as Sam dabbed antiseptic on the cut. "Sam, should you be doing this? I mean, you were cut up and whi-whipped pretty bad."

"I'm fine. I've patched up Dean and my Dad in worse condition."

"That's… not actually that comforting."

"Sorry."

Krissy fell silent as she looked at Sam, her brow furrowing. He worked quickly and efficiently to treat her injury, his hands skilled and experienced. He also refused to look her in the eye.

"You're done," Sam said at length, "Go see Claire about the bruises."

Krissy nodded, and sought out Claire. The blonde's back was to Sam, so only Krissy and Tracy were able to see him slump on the stool, his breathing measured, pain and exhaustion lining his face. By the time Claire turned back, though, he was sitting up, looking for all the world like his injuries had been painted on with stage make-up.

Christ.

It was for Claire, he was doing it all for Claire, so that she wouldn't worry about him as much. So that she wouldn't see just how badly he'd suffered for her sake. If they'd had any doubts about how much Sam loved Claire, they were all gone now.

Sam sighed slightly. "Uh… we have showers and spare rooms if you guys want to crash here for a while, there's cars in the garage if you want to head out now -"

"Sam, can we _please_ worry about that when you're _not_ bleeding all over the infirmary?"

Sam blinked.

"I'm with Claire on this one," Krissy added.

"Don't you guys have better things to do than wait for me to shower and spend twenty minutes doing stitches?"

Tracy shrugged. "I could do with some food."

Claire and Krissy shot her a look, but Sam nodded. "Kitchen's fully stocked if you don't mind vegetarian food. Haven't really had a chance to stock up on any meat recently."

"I don't suppose you got any spare clothes around here?"

Sam flashed Tracy a brief smile. "If we do, they're from the 1950s. You can have a look if you want. Take the corridor to your left, and it's the third door on your right. Claire can show you where the showers are, and I've got a guy I can call to bring your truck over, so you'll have your stuff back tomorrow morning."

"Great," Claire said impatiently, "Can we get back to the you-not-bleeding-out part?"

Sam chuckled, making shooing motions at the girls. "Go get food or clean up or whatever. I'll find you guys when I'm done."

* * *

Ten minutes later found all three girls in the kitchen, with Claire diced potatoes and Krissy stirring a pot of pasta on the stove while Tracy rooted around the fridge for sauce.

"Should we be helping Sam?" Krissy asked hesitantly, "He was cut up pretty bad, He can't take care of that all by himself, can he?"

"We haven't yet mastered getting Sam to let us help," Claire huffed, "But he could give any medic a run for their money. Shit, I should call Ben and Jake."

"Lost your phone back in the fight?" Tracy asked as Claire rooted around her pockets.

"God, that would be my luck. Mom's not going to be thrilled_._"

Krissy frowned. "Your Mom's not a hunter, right? What's she think of all… this."

Claire scoffed. "She'd have to come out of her med high and actually notice me first. After Castiel took my Dad away, she didn't really cope too well. Tracy, can you grab the garlic powder?"

Tracy passed her the container and shook a bottle of juice. "Is this _mango_ juice?"

Claire nodded with a faint smile. "It's Jake's, he likes exotic fruit."

Tracy's eyebrows rose. "You guys are really close to Sam, hunh. You, Ben, Jake, and Jesse?"

"Yeah. He trained us, kept us safe, taught us how to balance our lives and hunting… we were just a bunch of broken kids, angry and scared, and he… he gave us a family again. I don't where any of us would be without him, but it'd be nowhere good."

Krissy bit her lip. "It must have been hard for you, to see what Dean did to him."

Claire's knuckles whitened as she clutched the edge of the counter. She replied tightly, "It's always hard for me to watch Dean does to him."

Claire sighed, and turned to put the garlic potatoes in the oven. "But, you want to know how he became a demon."

Krissy nodded, and Claire leaned back against the counter. "It's the blade he was using - the bone one. It's called the First Blade, and it's the jawbone Cain used to kill Abel - the first murder. Lucifer imbued the Blade with his own grace, and turned Cain into a demon - a Knight of Hell. Couple months ago, Dean went to Cain - who is still alive, yes - and asked him for help killing Abaddon. Cain transferred his powers to Dean because he was 'worthy' - because he already had the heart of a killer. Dean killed a lot of things using the First Blade, Abaddon included, and he got more and more out of control with each kill, until the Blade finally took over. And now he's a demon, just like Cain."

Krissy's expression was pained. She'd trusted Dean, looked up to him. "But why would he even _go_ to Cain like that?"

"Because he's a douchebag who can't make good life choices?" Claire snapped back.

Krissy's lips thinned and Claire sighed again. "You'll have to ask Sam. He's the only one on the planet who really understands Dean."

The girls finished preparing their food in silence.

* * *

When Sam made his way to the common area forty minutes, showered and bandaged to high heaven, the first words he was greeted with were, "You look like shit."

Sam grimaced. "Thanks, Tracy."

Tracy shrugged, and Sam knew she was right. His ribs were bandaged, and most of the rest of his body was covered in dressing over stitches and bruises from the whip. His hair was pulled back into a small bun to keep it away from the cut on the back of his neck, which was thin and shallow enough that it would scab over and heal on its own. There were more of those than Sam realized, though that was to say nothing of the dressing over his eye.

Yeah, he looked a mess.

He pulled out a chair and flipped it around before sitting, asking, "So, you guys figure out what you want to do from here yet?"

The girls glanced at each other, and Tracy responded, "I think we could do with some answers."

Sam sighed heavily, his expression growing blank. "Alright."

Claire protested immediately. "What - not _now_, Sam, you're injured -"

"I'm fine, Claire."

"_I'm pretty sure you don't actually know what that phrase means._"

"Claire," Sam said gently, "It's fine. You guys deserve an explanation."

Claire still looked displeased, but Tracy nudged Krissy. The younger girl cleared her throat and asked, "Claire explained some about the First Blade and Dean being a demon… but what made him do that?"

Sam's lips twisted wryly. "Dean… doesn't really cope well with me dying. Back during the meteor shower when the angels fell, I was in really bad shape. I was in a coma, my insides were fried, and I was ten seconds away from crossing to the other side with my Reaper, when Dean tricked me into saying 'yes' to an angel. Fast-forward four months when the angel decides to lock me inside my own head and take my body out for a joyride. Dean made a deal with Crowley that is Crowley would possess me to wake me up, he'd go to Cain and get his help to defeat Abaddon for him.

"Crowley held up his end of the deal, I kicked him and the angel out, and Dean went to Cain and got his powers and the First Blade. The Blade… it's an instrument of murder. It needs blood, has since Lucifer first touched it. Cain couldn't even overcome it until the 1800s. And Dean… he didn't _want_ to resist it. I tried to bring him out of its lure as often as I could, but then Metatron - Metatron killed him. And the Blade brought him back a demon."

Krissy looked devastated. Tracy frowned. "Wait, have you died before?"

Sam resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. "Couple times, yeah. Dean made a demon deal the first time, and tried to break open Lucifer's Cage another time. And, y'know, shoved an angel inside me."

Tracy's expression blanked and grew chilled. "You called on Lucifer. You _begged._ Why?"

Claire's eyes widened and she shot out of her seat furiously. "You don't get to ask him that!"

"The Hell I don't, he's the reason my family is _dead!_"

Sam placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. "Claire. It's fine; Tracy's right."

"She is _not!_"

"Claire." Sam's expression was pained, and he breathed slowly. "You already know I let Lucifer out -"

"_Why._"

Sam swallowed. "The year leading up to that, demons started breaking the seals on Lucifer's Cage. The angels told us that we had to stop them - and that killing Lilith, the First Demon, would stop the Apocalypse. They lied. They _wanted_ the Apocalypse to happen, so that Michael and Lucifer could have a pissing match. Lilith was the last seal, and when I killed her, I released Lucifer."

Tracy paled, staring at Sam, stunned.

Sam's gaze was distant as he continued, "You'll notice that we're not in the midst of the Apocalypse right now. Dean and I came up with a plan - actually, it was the archangel Gabriel's plan - we got the rings of the Four Horsemen and opened a gate back to the Cage. I took Lucifer into me and jumped into the Cage, dragging Michael down with me. I was there for five thousand years before Dean made a deal with Death to bring me back."

Krissy's hand was pressed against her mouth and Claire was trying not to cry again; all she seemed to be _doing_ today was _cry._ Tracy wasn't sure she remembered how to breathe anymore.

"Five thousand years," Sam murmured, and no one was sure if he was fully in the present. "They were so angry. _Years_ of planning and manipulation all undone by someone so much less than an abomination.." Sam clenched his fists, the pain shooting up his arm grounding him. "Anyway. Flashbacks - I wasn't always sure where I was while Dean was…" Sam sighed tiredly and trailed off.

Tracy shook her head. "I don't - why would you do that for _me_? I _hated_ you!"

Claire's palms slammed down on the table furiously and Sam grabbed her arm before she could leap to attack Tracy. His brow furrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Tracy laughed despairingly as she buried her head in her hands. "You're fucked up, Winchester."

Sam shrugged as Claire hissed beside him. It wasn't the worst thing he'd been called.

"How are you still _sane?_" Krissy wondered faintly.

Sam's gaze shifted to the side, as if he was embarrassed. "It was touch and go for a while, but other people have had it worse."

"No, Sam," Claire huffed, "_Literally no one_ has had it worse."

Sam cleared his throat, definitely embarrassed. "Anyway. Anything else you guys want to know?"

"What was up with the demon blood?" Krissy blurted out before she could stop herself, and Claire's ire quickly switched targets.

"That ties back into the whole Apocalypse thing - Claire, calm down, you can't hurt Krissy."

Claire scowled, and sat back in her chair unhappily. Sam chuckled slightly. "You've been spending too much time around Jake."

Sam turned back to Krissy. "Anyway. A couple decades ago, this demon - Azazel, I don't know if you've ever heard of him - went around trying to make a bunch of super-powered kids. He dripped his blood into our mouths when we were six months old, and twenty-odd years later, we started manifesting… gifts. I got visions, someone else got telekinesis, another girl was advanced enough that she could control demons. During the year leading up to the Apocalypse, someone showed me that if I drank more demon blood, I could boost my abilities and exorcise demons without harming their hosts. I was stupid, thought it was a good idea. Wound up getting addicted. Dean wasn't happy, but he helped me detox, got me clean. But once an addict… it never really goes away. I've stayed clean ever since, though. Couldn't let Dean down."

"Until today," Krissy finished sadly.

Sam's lips twitched and he shook his head. "I bit down on the inside of my mouth and swallowed my own blood. I only smeared his across my face and teeth."

Claire linked her fingers with Sam's tightly and Krissy stared at him, awed.

Tracy cleared her throat, staring down at the table. "Do you know what crack babies are?"

Sam shook his head curiously.

Tracy sighed. "They're babies who are born addicted - their Moms were hooked on cocaine while pregnant, and it got into the babies' system. My Mom - she worked in a rehab clinic, taking care of those babies, looking after them as they went through withdrawal. And after all the years she worked there, she found that those kids - they got addicted faster and more often than others, because even if they didn't remember, their bodies did. And it was harder for them to kick the habit and stay on the wagon."

Sam stared at Tracy warily.

"I guess what I'm saying is… God, I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm still angry."

Sam nodded. "I understand. I know I deserve -"

"Not at you," Tracy cut him off, and Sam blinked. "At the demons, at Lucifer, and Hell, maybe a couple days from now, I'll be mad at you again. But you saved my life out there. You - let him - let Dean _torture_ you, try to break you in every way, instead of me. And I can't be anything but grateful for that."

Sam blinked again, brow starting to furrow. "Uh… You're welcome…"

Tracy bit down on a disbelieving laugh. Man, how fucked up was this guy? Claire looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and he didn't even understand why she was thanking him for saving her.

"Okay, question and answer time is _over_," Claire announced abruptly, and no one argued. "I live twenty minutes away, I can grab you guys extra clothes if you want to stay the night."

Tracy and Krissy nodded, and Sam stood. "I'll get the car keys."

Claire shot to her feet and rounded on Sam. "What - you are not driving, Sam!"

Sam's eyebrow rose. "You're extremely emotionally compromised right now," he point out, "You shouldn't be driving right now -"

"Neither should you! You're injured all over everywhere, can't see out of one eye, and probably have nerve damage!"

"No nerve damage, and it's just blood, Claire, I've had worse."

"_That does not make me feel better!_"

Claire and Sam stared each other down, and Krissy remembered with a pang how often she and her father had acted the same way. A glance at Tracy's wistful and pained expression showed she was thinking the same thing, too.

Sam finally sighed. "Fine, you can drive. But I'm going to be in the passenger seat."

Claire grumbled, but nodded.

Sam turned back to Krissy and Tracy. "We should be back within an hour. Make yourselves at home."

* * *

Sleep didn't come easy to any of them that night.

Sam kept vigil by Jesse's side, reading a novel and not wanting to face nightmares of the Cage when there was a psychic in the bunker. Jesse needed peace and safety to recover, not interference from his memories and flashbacks.

Some corridors away, Krissy stared up at her ceiling, wearing Claire's pajamas. She wondered how a man she had trusted so much had turned into someone so monstrous. She wondered why she hadn't latched on to _Sam_ the way she had Dean, when Sam was the one to come help her first. Maybe then it wouldn't have hurt this much. Or maybe, like Claire, she would have been a wreck.

She sighed and closed her eyes, trying not to think of Dean's black eyes and cruel sneer.

Next door, Tracy lay on her bed, doing much the same thing. She was wearing one of Claire's mother's pajamas, but at least it was clean and comfortable. All told, the bunker was a pretty nice place to live, if a little utilitarian.

God, had the mess with Dean really just been that afternoon? It felt like days ago, but maybe that was just the exhaustion talking. She'd tried taking a nap earlier, but wound up jolting awake with Sam's cries in her ears. He'd bled for her - begged Dean to let him bleed for her so that she wouldn't be hurt. Didn't even care that she made no secret about not liking him. He refused to take care of his own injuries until everyone else was patched up first, and didn't let Claire see his pain.

Who did things like that?

The last people she'd known who were that… selfless… had been her parents, both of them social workers. They'd been some of the most gentle, loving people she knew, and _God_, did it hurt to remember them. It felt like there was a vice around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until she broke, and it was so much easier to be angry. It was so much easier to forget the pain and just be angry, to go out and kill monsters.

To not think about how her parents raised her, about what they would think of her life,

Tracy thought back to they Sam was so gentle with Claire, calm and steady and supportive, while Claire looked up to him like her was her shelter in the storm. She thought about the way Ben and Jake defended him, and the way their faces lit up when they talked about him. The way Jesse called him 'Dad' and how Sam coaxed him to sleep. Sam hadn't stopped hunting all these years, even though he'd more than paid his dues. He was still trying to save people.

She'd been living in anger so long, and on days like this she was so tired of it.

Maybe it was time to start living out her parents' legacy of compassion instead.

And when Claire woke up a few hours later, clawing her way out of a nightmare screaming "_Sam!", _Sam barreled into her room, gun and the ready.

Claire threw herself at him, sobbing. "Oh God ohgod ohgod -"

"Claire - Claire, it's okay, I'm here-"

Claire clung tighter to Sam, sobbing into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around her and tried to soothe her.

"I'm here, Claire, it's over."

"You were _dying - _and I couldn't - I couldn't -"

"Hey, hey, I don't die that easy, okay?" Sam murmured gently, stroking her hair, "I'm here, I'm fine, and it's thanks to you. It's over. It's gonna be okay."

Claire fell asleep crying on him, and probably had the easiest sleep of them all this time around.

* * *

"… Are you wearing Sam's T-shirt?"

Claire blushed slightly at Krissy's question and shrugged. She was in fact wearing a T-shirt of Sam's, dark purple with a greyhound across the front. She wasn't sure if Sam knew she had it, but he probably did. "It's comfy."

Krissy bit down on a smile as Claire set out plates and glasses on the table. "Where's Sam?"

"In the kitchen making pancakes for Jesse. You want some?"

"I definitely do," Tracy announced joining them. She looked freshly showered and a lot more awake than Krissy felt. "Thanks for the clothes last night, Claire, but I am _so_ glad to be back in my own."

Claire grinned and Krissy nodded in agreement. They'd found their duffel bags waiting in front of their doors when they woke up, and Tracy's truck was in the garage.

"You think Sam got any sleep last night?"

"He didn't," Jesse said, appearing at Claire's elbow.

Krissy and Tracy jumped. "Holy _shit,_ kid, what are you, Harry Potter?"

Dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and one of Sam's plaid shirts dwarfing his small frame, he certainly looked the part.

"He gets it from Sam," Claire replied, ruffling Jesse's hair. All his injuries from the day before had disappeared.

Krissy's eyes lit up. "That _was_ a Harry Potter reference yesterday, wasn't it? The twelve uses of blood?"

Claire nodded proudly and Tracy burst out laughing. "Oh my _God_, he is something else."

Their further conversation was cut off as two voices sounded from outside the room. "Sam?! Claire, Jesse?!"

Claire's eyes lit up and she bolted out of her seat. "_Jake!"_

Jacob caught his girlfriend in a tight embrace as she tackled him at the entrance of the common area, murmuring gratefully into her hair. "You're okay. Thank God, you're okay."

Ben stepped past the couple, his eyes widening as he absently hugged Jesse. "Krissy? Tracy? Wasn't expecting to see you here - you guys alright?"

Krissy nodded. "Yeah, we're good."

"Sam's making pancakes," Tracy added.

"Oh, dude, Hell yes!" Jacob exclaimed.

Claire slapped her boyfriend's shoulder lightly. "_Jacob!_"

"What?! Sam's pancakes are like eating clouds, okay? Sweet, warm, fluffy clouds from heaven."

"You are a _five-year-old._"

"They're an old married couple, is what they are," Ben muttered and Krissy and Tracy snorted in amusement.

Claire and Jacob continued bickering as they returned to the table, Claire holding Jacob's hand. Sam came out at the sound of the commotion, carrying a large stack of pancakes.

Ben and Jacob stiffened at his injuries, identical expressions of rage crossing their faces. _"I'm going to fucking kill him!"_

Sam raised his good eyebrow slightly. "You're going to sit down and eat breakfast, that's what you're going to do."

"And then I'm going to rip Dean's heart out," Jacob responded.

"Not if I shoot his brains out first."

"_Breakfast,_" Sam insisted firmly, setting the pancakes on the table, a stern expression on his face. "I'm going to fetch coffee and fruit and milk - _yes,_ Jesse, you _do_ need to drink your milk."

The older teens exchanged glances and sniggered as Jesse pouted.

"Ben, don't chew with your mouth open," Sam threw over his shoulder as he walked away.

Ben, who had been doing exactly that, stared at him in shock. "How did he -"

"Or talk with your mouth open," Sam called out from the kitchen.

Ben threw up his hands in exasperation and the others burst out laughing.

Sam returned with drinks and fruit, settling down to eat his apple. Jacob moaned happily as he dug into his pancakes, and Claire slapped him upside the head lightly, telling him to behave. Jacob ignored her gleefully and Ben laughed, Jesse looked enviously at Tracy's coffee and tried to ignore the glass of milk in front of him. He'd teleport it away if he didn't know Sam would just pour him another one. It was all blissfully domestic, and Krissy almost felt bad for interrupting.

She cleared her throat. "So, uh, where do we go from here?"

Sam sat back and shrugged. "Up to you. Keep hunting, go back to school, whatever you normally do. Dean's my brother, my problem, so I need to fix this."

"We're helping," Jacob added.

"You are _not._"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Jesse."

Jesse turned to Sam, eyes wide and pleading, and Krissy and Tracy both choked on their coffee, because, _damn_, those were powerful puppy eyes. "Sam, let us help, please."

"_No_," Sam replied, remaining firm.

Apparently, Sam had superhuman self-control.

"We'll negotiate something that works for us all," Claire replied implacably, a steely glint in her eyes.

Tracy set down her coffee. "What can we do?"

"Get word out to other hunters," Sam mused, "Let them know what's going on, and to stay away if possible. Dean's dangerous; I don't want others caught in the crossfire. Stay safe, keep an eye on the soul factories. Abaddon may be gone, but her followers aren't. Otherwise… business as usual, I guess. There'll always be people to save, monsters to hunt."

Tracy nodded and returned to her breakfast, the other teens following suit. She was thrilled about being told to stay away, but if anyone could fix this mess with Dean, the new Knight of Hell…

… It would be Sam Winchester.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	9. Fallout

A/N: Fallout is the fourth in a series surrounding Dean. So far, they're been posted in order (Safety - Demon Heart - Broken Faith (which technically happens in the middle of Demon Heart) - Fallout) but I can't guarantee I won't revisit this arc later.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

In hindsight, Sam wasn't surprised that Dean beat the shit out of him when he found out about Ben.

Sam remembered sitting in the Impala, trying to express his unease at what Dean and Castiel had done to Ben and Lisa, only to be shut down with the threat of violence. So when Dean found out he'd been helping train Ben as a hunter?

Yeah, there was a reason he'd been stocking up the first aid kit in the bunker.

Sam hit the wall with a grunt, struggling against Dean's hold and the ringing in his ears. Dean was yelling something at him -

- and then fell silent sharply.

Sam blinked the blood and confusion out of his eyes to see Ben standing off to the side, gun pointed steadily at Dean's heart.

"Ben…"

"You know," the teen said conversationally, "The only reason Jake hasn't ripped your brain out is that Sam likes you. You might want to think about that when you're working out your guilt on your brother."

Dean's eyes widened, but what came out of his mouth was, "Don't point that thing unless you intend to shoot."

Ben's thumb shifted lazily and flicked the safety off. His stance was calm and steady, his grip sure. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that Ben _would _shoot Dean if it came down to it.

Sam saw Jacob step into range, eyes golden and fox-like. Over Dean's shoulder he saw Jesse, shadows starting to warp around him. On Dean's other side, Claire was fingering her blade.

They were all poised to attack.

"I think it's time you let Sam go, Dean," Claire said, her voice hard and clear.

Dean's grip loosened and Sam slumped to the ground, biting back a groan. Fuck, his everything hurt.

"Good. Now walk away."

"This isn't your business," Dean ground out, but he made his posture loose and unthreatening.

"I'd do what she says, jackwagon," Jacob growled, fingernails lengthening into claws.

Dean's jaw clenched for a moment, taking in the four teens, assessing them, before he huffed disparagingly and stepped back.

A little space was all it took, and suddenly Sam was shielded by four bodies, all glaring at Dean with weapons at the ready.

"Good," Jacob snapped, "Now take a hike."

Jesse turned to Sam, eyes big and wet and scared, and said softly, "I don't know how to heal this, Sam."

Sam smiled weakly, reaching out to tousle the boy's hair. "Don't worry about it. I've had worse."

None of them looked pleased by that statement and Jacob muttered darkly under his breath.

"We should get you to the infirmary," Claire said, assessing the damage Dean had wrought.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a pained groan, "Might need some help getting up."

Jacob and Ben were at his sides instantly, claws sheathed and gun holstered, helping him stand. Sam decided against mentioning the way Ben's fingers hooked around his absently, or the way Jacob's grip remained firm and possessive as he tugged Sam's arm across his shoulders.

It would figure that after everything, he would get adopted by four angry, broken hunters-in-training with issues that put his to shame.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	10. Rings

A/N: Future!fic. Jacob calls Sam while he and Claire are on vacation touring Europe. Sam doesn't expect the ensuing conversation.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

_"Sam, I need you to take me ring shopping."_

Sam blinked groggily and looked at his bedside clock, which read '2:13 AM' in blaring red letters. "… Jake, it's two in the morning."

_"Oh, right, sorry, it's 8 AM here."_

Sam groaned and flopped back against his pillows. "Jake, why are you calling me at two in the morning from England?"

_"Because I'm going to propose to Claire when we get to Italy and I don't have a ring._"

Sam sat up sharply. "You - _Jacob._"

_"Now you see why I called you. How did you pick out a ring for Jess?"_

"Well, I thought about it more than three weeks in advance, for one thing," Sam replied drily, rubbing the sleep out of his face.

_"Dude, I've been ready to marry Claire since we graduated high school. And we're going to Portofino, there is literally no better place to do this."_

"Didn't you know about Portofino before you left for your vacation?"

_"Not the point, Sam! Rings!"_

Sam shook his head. "Alright, uh… what's your price range?"

_"I'm about to ask the girl of my dreams to marry me, what the Hell do I care about price?"_ Jacob demanded incredulously, "_I'll go into debt for the rest of my life if I have to!_"

Sam bit back a snort. He'd said the same thing when ring shopping for Jess. "Well, at least you have the right attitude, but let's not get ahead of ourselves." He reached for his laptop. "You know Claire's ring size?"

_"Uh."_

"Grab one of her spare rings when you go to the store. You planning on getting an artisan or traditional ring?"

_"Uh, what._"

Sam huffed. "You want to get her a traditional diamond ring, or one of those themed ones she used to look at on Etsy?"

_"Claire used to look at rings on Etsy?! Oh God, when -_"

"Jacob."

Jacob fell silent and Sam could feel his anxiety running down the phone line. "Look, I get that you want to spend the rest of your life with Claire. I do. But proposing, and more importantly, marriage, is not something you rush into. Now, take a deep breath, and think about what Claire likes. How were you planning on proposing?"

_"Balcony of Castello Brown if I could get away with it, boat on Paraggi Bay if not."_

Sam was silent for a moment, trying to imagine the girl who preferred lively debates to romance and the boy with a wicked smile and gentle hands in either of those locations. "You got those ideas from Ben, didn't you?"

_"That obvious?"_

"Very. And it's not really you or Claire."

Jacob swore. _"What am I supposed to do?!"_

"Rome or the Vatican would probably be better, given Claire's life goals."

_"Claire would shoot me if I proposed to her in Vatican City. And Rome is… Rome. Venice might be better. Or maybe Florence. Or -"_

Before Jacob could run through the entire list of sites he and Claire were planning to visit during their month-long vacation in Europe, Sam cut in, "Worry about the venue later, first take care of the ring."

_"Right. How were you planning to propose to Jess?_"

Sam breathed deeply, his gaze going distant. "Honestly? I didn't have a clue. I found the perfect ring in this out-of-the-way mom-and-pop jeweler's, and carried the ring around in my pocket for weeks, trying to figure out what to do. There was a day when we were both in the library, and Jess looked so… She was radiant. I was ten seconds away from dropping to one knee and proposing right there."

_"Why didn't you?"_

Sam's lips twisted wryly, remembering Brady's drunk voice cutting through the peace of the library. He'd sometimes wondered if the demon had done it on purpose. "And old friend dropped by. Anyway, rings."

_"Claire's pragmatic, I don't think she's going to be that impressed by a giant rock. And it's not all that practical for hunting."_

Sam smiled slightly. "Alright. Silver or gold?"

_"Silver,"_ Jacob replied immediately.

Sam's smile widened. "Progress. You know you're actually going to have to go to the store to look at designs, right? Probably more than one, and without Claire."

_"… This was a poorly thought out endeavor, wasn't it."_

"You called me at two in the morning, Jake."

_"Eight! Eight in the morning!"_

"Claire's not up?"

_"We may have gotten extremely hammered last night. It cleared out of my system pretty fast, but Claire's not going to be up until at least noon, probably closer to two."_

"Then I suggest you leave her a note and hit the streets." Sam glanced at his computer. "There's an H. Samuel about fifteen minutes away from you - that's probably a good place to start."

_"Oh God what would I do without you?"_

"Run around like a headless chicken and commit first degree murder."

Sam chuckled as Jacob made an indignant noise and sassed him back. He flipped on the lights in his room and made his way to the kitchen to get coffee. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get any sleep until Jacob found the perfect ring.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	11. Little Boy Blue

A/N: This is mostly unrepentant fluff, but angst snuck in anyway. I'm not really sure when this is set, but it's sometime after Dean stops being a demon.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Sam's maybe eight, just after he found out about hunting. He doesn't know where he is, doesn't know how he got here, doesn't know why there's a dead woman bleeding near him, and he just wants Dean and his Dad. What if they're hurt, what if a monster got them like it did the woman?

There's a gun on the floor beside him, and he inches towards it warily. Dad hasn't taught him to shoot yet because he's too small, but he's seen Dean do it. He just has to be brave, maybe he can do it, too.

And a big man, as big as his Dad, barges in, shouting and waving his gun around, and Sam freezes. Is this it? The man kill the woman and come back to finish the job?

Sam lets out a whimper and tries to scurry away when the man turns on him, but he's big and Sam's pretty small, and the man looms over him in a second.

"Sammy?! What the Hell happened?!"

The man knows his name, how does he know his name?

"Who - who are you? Where's my Dad and my brother?!"

The man's eyes widen. "Son of a - okay, Sammy, how about you give me the gun before you shoot someone's head off… Or, kneecaps, at your height."

Sam's grip tightens and he holds out the gun in front of him, trembling. "Where's. My. Dad. What did you do with my family?!"

The man blinks. He holds up his hands. "Okay, Sammy. It's me, Dean. Your brother, Dean. I'm just going to put my gun down, okay? Then how about you do the same?"

Sam frowns, looking at the man suspiciously. Dean's twelve, he doesn't look anything like him. "If you're really Dean, where's your amulet?"

The man freezes, and then smiles awkwardly. "That old thing? I, uh, I gave it to Dad."

He's lying.

The man huffs. "Look, you and I used to pretend we were superheroes when we were kids, and you jumped off the roof and broke your arm because you didn't know Batman couldn't fly. I drove you to the hospital on my bike."

Sam's arm twinges in memory and he lowers the gun slightly. Maybe it is Dean.

As soon as the gun drops, the man's tackling him, crushing him to his chest, and Sam panics for a moment, because it hurts and the man smells of whiskey and Dad always told him to stay away from anyone smelling that strongly of alcohol, even him. But then he hears "Thank God you're okay, everything's going to be fine, little brother, I'll fix this, I promise," and raises his hands to grip the man's - Dean's - arms a little unsurely.

He's still scared.

The man - _Dean_ - smiles and picks him up. "What say we get you home, hunh, buddy?"

* * *

Two days later, Sam's hiding behind a bookshelf, sitting on the floor and reading. He's also watching 'Dean' through a space in the books made by the one he just took out.

He's about halfway sure the man isn't actually his brother. Because he's nothing like _his _Dean, he smells of whiskey constantly, and is always grumpy. He slams things around and yells when he thinks Sam's not around, but the sounds carry throughout the bunker really easily.

Sam makes himself scarce, but that only makes 'Dean' grumpier.

'Dean' slams another book shut, and groans, pouring himself more whiskey.

"Hey, dickhead, what did you do with Sam?"

'Dean' sputters, and Sam's eyes widen. A tall teenager with curly hair, wearing plaid and khaki shorts is standing across the table from 'Dean' with his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"What the Hell are you even doing here?"

The teen shrugs. "It's Saturday. Training day."

Two more teenagers come up behind him, a blonde girl and someone who looks like he could be 'Dean's son.

None of them look very happy to see 'Dean,' and Sam wonders why they're asking for him.

"What are you reading?"

Sam startles, looking away from the gap in the books to find a boy a little older than him - maybe Dean's age, _his_ Dean - sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jesse," the boy replies, and Sam notices he has blue highlights in his hair. "Jesse Turner. Don't you remember me?"

Sam shakes his head. He'd remember someone with blue hair.

Jesse grins and Sam realises he's said that out loud. Jesse continues, "Yeah, you were kind of surprised when I cam back from Ireland with them - well, big-you, anyway."

Sam blinks. "… 'Big-me?'"

"Yeah, you know, the six-foot-four version of you before you became small? Didn't Dean tell you?"

Sam scowls. "'Dean' hasn't told me _anything_ besides that he'll 'keep me safe' and he's 'going to fix this.' I'm only allowed in his room and the library."

Jesse's eyebrows climb up and up, and Sam glances back through the gap between books to see the blonde girl glaring at 'Dean,' and 'Dean' trying to loom over her.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Sam confesses.

"So you're hiding in the library, reading a book on…" Jesse lifts the book quickly and checks the title. "Hindu mythology. Good choice."

"I'm not stealing it," Sam protests quickly.

Jesse's eyebrows rise up again, and he points out, "You can't steal what's yours, Sam."

Sam's jaw drops as he whips around to look at the rest of the library. "This is _mine? _All of these?"

Jesse nods. "Yeah. I mean, Jake keeps trying to hide his Spanish textbook here because he hates Spanish, and I think Ben left his geometry book once, but these are your books, Sam. This is your house."

"I - I have a house? A real one? We don't move all the time?"

Jesse tilts his head. "I mean, you go out on hunts, but you always come back. This is your home. Safest place on Earth."

Sam's pretty sure his eyes are going to fall out of his head. "_Wow._"

Jesse grins. "Hey, you want to meet Ben and Jake and Claire? They're super nice, I promise. We'll get you out of Dean's hair for a while."

Sam's expression falls a bit at the mention of 'Dean,' so Jesse leans forward conspiratorially. "It's okay, Dean doesn't like us very much, either, but he's a big - wait, how old are you?"

"Eight."

"… Right. He's a big… poophead, so we don't care what he thinks."

Sam giggles involuntarily at Jesse's expression and choice of words, and Jesse grins wider.

There's a crash from beyond them, and a pained grunt, followed by a girl crying, "_Jake!"_

Jesse shoots to his feet instantly, looking through a gap in the shelves above Sam, warning Sam to stay down and stay quiet. He's taller than Sam, _everyone's_ taller than Sam, but he relaxes at what he sees. He holds out his hand and smiles. "Come on, it's okay."

Sam allows Jesse to lead him out of the shelves and back to the open are - where 'Dean's collapsed against an overturned chair, his nose bleeding, and the blonde is massaging her temples, while the teen who looks sort of like Dean grins and throws his arm around the boy in plaid, whose fist is still clenched.

Jesse clears his throat. "Guys, this is Sam. Sam, this Jake, Claire, and Ben."

Jake and Ben's faces go slack, and Claire's eyes widen. "… _Our _Sam?"

"Yup," Jesse agrees serenely, and Sam wonders if he has any other emotions. "Except tiny and without any of his memories."

"I'm not _tiny,_" Sam grumbles, "I'm _eight._"_  
_

"Dude, how did you go from an eight-year-old shrimp to a six-foot-four giant?!" Jake demands incredulously, and Claire reaches back without even looking to smack him upside the head.

Sam bites down on a giggle. Claire steps towards him her hand outstretched. "It's nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Claire Novak, and the brats behind me are my boyfriend, Jacob Pond, and his best friend, Ben Braden."

This time, Sam does giggle, because Ben and Jacob both pout in response to Claire's introduction. "Sam Winchester," Sam replies, remembering his manners, "It's nice to meet you, Miss Novak."

Claire's eyes widen and she laughs. Sam thinks she has a very nice laugh as she ruffles his hair. "I'm just seventeen, Sam. You don't have to call me 'Miss.' Just Claire's fine."

Sam smiles impishly. "Okay, Just Claire."

Jesse snickers behind him as Claire smiles and Ben and Jacob grin. "I like him," Ben says, "We should keep him."

"He's not your _pet_," 'Dean' growls, pushing himself up.

Jacob's in front of him in a second, eyes flashing like a fox's and claws growing from his nails. "No one asked _you_, asshat."

Sam grips Jesse's hand, fear dousing him like ice water.

"_Jacob!_" Jesse and Claire snap, and Jacob looks back, nonplussed.

"You're scaring Sam," Claire hisses, and Jacob's expression falls when he sees Sam. His shoulders slump and he draws back his claws.

Sam swallows. "A - are you a m-monster?" His voice is shaky and high and he _hates_ it, he's supposed to be _brave_, why can't be be like Dean and Dad?

Jacob looks hurt, really hurt, and he sighs. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm one of the good ones, though! I don't hurt people."

Sam glances at 'Dean,' who sneers.

"Dean's a special case," Ben explains, "He's kind of a -"

Claire shoots him a warning glance.

" - not very nice person," Ben amends. "He doesn't like us, and we don't like him."

"That doesn't mean you should hit him," Sam points out dubiously.

Everyone in the room stares at him, and Sam shrinks in on himself a little.

"Woooow," Jacob says slowly, "You started the Christ-incarnate thing _early_."

Sam's brow furrows in confusion and Claire huffs. "You're right, Sam. Jake shouldn't have punched Dean -"

"Aw, come on, Claire -"

"- And Dean shouldn't have threatened Jake or consumed the state's total import of whiskey, so they're _both_ in the wrong."

"Well, you're not wrong on the last part," Ben points out, "No-one's entirely sure why he's not dead from liver cirrhosis yet. More's the pity."

"_Ben._"

"Castiel gives him a new liver every time he heals him," Jesse pipes up.

This time, even Claire joins Ben and Jacob in demanding incredulously, "Oh my God, really?!"

"Who's Castiel?" Sam asks Jesse quietly.

"Dean's angel friend," Jesse replies softly.

Sam's eyes widen as big as saucers. "Angels are _real?!_"

'Dean' scoffs. "Yeah, they exist. Feathery dou - dirtbags."

Sam frowns in confusion again, and Claire puts her hands on her hips. "Okay, I think it's high time we head out. There's a fair in town, Sam, you want to go see?"

Sam's breath catches in his throat, because _yes_, he totally wants to go to a fair, but 'Dean' growls, "You're not taking him anywhere!"

"That is not even remotely your decision," Ben snaps.

"He's _my_ brother!"_  
_

"And it's that kind of agency-overriding behavior that got you turned into a demon, so please sit down and shut up, or we'll let Jacob punch you again."

Sam looks between Ben and 'Dean' and revises his original thought that they might be father and son.

"He's _eight!_"

"When I was eight I was living in Australia by myself," Jesse pointed out.

"Yeah, and you're also the Antichrist," 'Dean' snaps back.

"What does that mean?" Sam asks.

Jesse smiles thinly. "It means Dean _really_ doesn't like me."

"This is Sam's decision," Claire says firmly. "You're not going to force him into anything, and neither are we."

Sam looks at her in wonder. He - he gets to _choose_? "I want to go to the fair," he says quietly.

"Sam, _no -_" 'Dean' protests, "It's not safe."

Ben and Jacob scoff. "Dude, If your argument is that only you can keep safe," Jacob sneered, "I'm gonna remind you that the four of us _kicked your ass_, so you don't really have a leg to stand on. Come on, Sam."

Sam steps towards Ben, but glances back at 'Dean' unsurely. The man _has_fed him and looked after him for the past few days. 'Dean' clenches his jaw, but then his expression softens. "Fine, go to the fair. But if even one hair on his head is out of place, I _will_ kill you, understand?"

Jacob rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Sam yelps as Jacob picks him up and plops him on his shoulders. "Come on, kid. The fair's like the only good thing this town has."

"_Jacob!_ Put me down, I'll hurt your back!"

"You weigh like five pounds, shrimp, I'll be fine. Just don't fall off, okay?"

"Bring him back by dinner," 'Dean' calls out behind them, and Jacob and Ben both raise their middle fingers at him without looking back.

Claire sighs and yanks their hands down as Sam and Jesse snicker.

* * *

A few hours later, Sam has decided that Jesse, Jacob, Claire, and Ben as _the most awesome people ever_, almost as awesome as _his_ Dean.

Jesse lets him sit on his shoulders almost the whole time, and even lets him eats ice cream there, even though some of it gets in his hair.

"I'll take a shower later, don't worry about it. Who knows, maybe it'll even be good for my hair, like one of those organic new-age recipes."

Ben wins him a giant stuffed dog in a game of darts, and teaches Sam how to throw. Sam's pretty bad at it, but Ben just laughs and ruffles his hair, saying he'll get better.

Jesse goes on the carousel with him, over and over again until Sam gets tired, and tells Sam about the _real_ horses he rode in Italy and Greece. Jesse knows a lot about everything, and tells Sam all about places he's never been, never even dreamed of going to.

Sam thinks he might want to be like Jesse when he grows up. Or Jacob. Or Ben. He wishes his Dean were around, he bets they would have _tons_ of fun.

Claire has the prettiest laugh Sam's ever heard, and she laughs a lot. She laughs at Jacob and Ben when they tell corny jokes and make faces, and she's nearly doubled over when Ben, Jacob, and Jesse go to get their faces painted and come back with sparkly butterflies all over them. She buys him cotton candy and strawberries and the juiciest blueberries Sam's ever had.

"They're all organic - which means they were grown by farmers nearby, without any pesticides or extra chemicals. Big-you loves them, so I thought you might, too."

"They're _awesome_," Sam replies, his lips blue, and Claire doesn't complain when he slips his sticky hand back in hers, tugging her on towards the next colorful thing that catches his eye.

The sun's hanging low in the sky when the find of them find a grassy knoll to sit on - well, Jesse's lying down beside Claire, who sits with Sam sitting between her legs as she braids him a daisy chain, and Ben and Jacob are wrestling on the ground beside them.

It's the best day Sam can remember.

It's almost time to go back to the bunker, and dread churns in Sam's gut. "Hey, Claire?" Sam asks softly, picking at the grass beneath his feet, "Is 'Dean' - the one in the bunker - is he really my brother?"

Claire bites down on a sigh, but Sam hears it anyway. "Yeah, Sam, he is."

It's exactly what Sam feared.

"Then… Do I grow up bad?"

Everyone freezes.

"Sam…" Claire says slowly, gently, as if Sam's a scared animal that needs to be calmed down, "Why would you think that?"

"I must grow up bad," Sam points out, because it all makes _sense_ now, "Because Dean's always mad at me. He drinks and slams things, and I'm the only thing that's different. I must grow up bad, because Dad's not around, and Dean doesn't wear his amulet anymore. Dean's a hero, like my Dad, so it must be me. It makes _sense._"

"No." It's not Claire who says it, but Jacob. Jacob's on his knees in front of Sam, eyes wide and fierce and a little bit. "No, don't you think that. You grow up _good_, you hear me? You grow up a _hero_, the greatest hero this stupid world has ever known, the greatest _man_ I know, you understand? You save hundreds, _thousands_ of people, and you don't ask for a word of thanks. You don't grow up bad, not at all. You grow up _good._"

Sam's eyes grow wide as Jacob speaks, and he goes completely still. He doesn't know what to do, what so say, because no one's ever spoken to him like this before. "Who - who _are_ you?"

It's the question he's been avoiding all afternoon, because he's not sure why four teenagers as nice and cool as them would want to spend their time with him, instead of doing something else.

"We're your kids," Jesse replies softly, sitting up, "You find us all when we were angry and scared and lost, and you teach us that it doesn't matter what we are, it only matters what we do."

Ben comes up behind Jacob, his expression solemn and gentle. "You teach us that it's our choice to be good, that we can be more than our anger and hurt. You teach us to be _better._"

Claire smiles tremulously and kisses the crown of Sam's head. Sam thinks maybe his mother might have kissed him like that, once. "You grow up wonderful, Sam. You give us a home and a family and you inspire so many people. So don't you ever think you grow up bad, okay?"

"Okay," Sam says softly, and feels something unfurling in his chest, something he thinks might be hope. He smiles up at the others. "Okay."

Jacob laughs faintly and drops down in front of Claire, lying perpendicular to her feet. Ben follows suit, using Jacob's stomach as a pillow.

"Oof - get _off_ me, Braeden, you weigh as much as an elephant."

"Shut up, you wore me out, alright? Which, for the record, is the only time you're ever going to hear that."

"I'm going to kill you when I get the energy to move again."

Sam giggles, partly because of Ben and Jacob's bickering, and partly because one of the stems in Claire's daisy chain tickles his ear when she puts the crown on him.

Jacob looks over at the sound and grins mischievously when he sees Sam shaking his head. "Hey Claire, I think someone's _ticklish!"_

"I am _not!_" Sam protests, and then gives a yelp when Jacob runs a blade of glass along his ankle.

He tries to scramble back into Claire, but she's got her fingers at his side, and soon Sam's shrieking in laughter, because Sam is _totally _ticklish, practically _everywhere,_ and Claire's magic and knows how to find _all of them._

No one expects Dean to turn up and bring their outing to a screeching halt.

_Certainly_ no one expects Jesse to let out a roar of rage and punch Dean in the face, and slam him to the ground. _"Salaud! T'es un petit con, t'mérites pas -_"

Ben and Jacob scramble to their feet, and Jacob mutters, "What, you'll let Jesse swear, but not us?"

"Sam doesn't speak French," Claire points out, standing and helping Sam to his feet.

"Yet, anyway," Ben mutters.

" - because of you! How _dare you!_ How _dare_ you let him think that, _he's your brother!_"

Sam clutched at Claire, and she said urgently, "Ben, Jake - bring him back. Bring him back now."

Ben and Jacob nod, striding over to pull Jesse off Dean.

"Jesse - Jesse, come on, buddy, it's okay. Come, let it go -"

"He's eight years old and _scared,_ because you won't tell him anything, so he think you drinking and yelling and slamming things around is _his fault_ - he's _eight years old, Dean!_ If you love him, _how could you do that to him?!"_

"Jesse," Ben pleads, "Jesse, come back to us. Come back, bro, Dean's not worth it, he never is, just come back to us -"

There are tears in Jesse's eyes as Ben and Jacob manage to pull him off Dean, and he whispers furiously, "He can't do that to Sam. He _can't._"

Dean looks heartbroken, more than Jacob did when Sam asked if he was a monster. "Sammy… you - you really think that? You're _scared_ of me?"

Sam fidgets at Claire's side.

Dean's expression crumples further and he chokes on a pained noise. "Sammy… That's not - Why would you even -"

"You're always mad," Sam whispers, wishing he could hide behind Claire, wishing they could rewind time, but he has to be brave, now. "I'm what's different, so I thought it was because of me."

"No, _no_, _Sammy_ - don't you ever think that, okay? You're my little brother, you're my _entire world_, you don't ever have to be afraid of me, alright? Not me, never me…"

Dean's arm are spread slightly, so Sam shuffles over to give him a hug. Dean's hold isn't tight this time, and Sam thinks he might be crying, so he wraps his arm around his neck. He still smells of whiskey, but he's really _his_Dean, all grown up, there's one fact Sam knows.

"I love you, Dean."

Dean's shoulder shudder once, and then he's picking up Sam like Jacob did, gently, as if Sam's something precious. "What say we go get dinner, hunh, buddy?"

Sam steadies himself in his brother's hold and looks back at the teenagers. Maybe if he _does_ grow bad, maybe if _does_ do whatever it is that makes Dean mad at him, if it brings him Jesse, Jacob, Ben, and Claire, maybe it'll be okay.

Hope unfurls in Sam's chest some more as the sun finally sets, and he thinks, maybe _he'll_ be okay.

* * *

A/N: I also have no idea whether Sam remembers what happened when he reverts to his proper age. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, but overall it doesn't change his relationship with anyone, so I leave that up to reader discretion.

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can also find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in the 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting' tag on my Tumblr.


	12. Faithless

A/N: Freshly undemonified, Dean comes face-to-face with the trust he's broken and the faith he's lost. No one besides Sam and Cas is very keen on making it easy for him.

Dean and Cas have already met Jacob and Claire, which ended violently, and Cas has also already met Jesse, which ended less violently. Also, words inside brackets are Higher Enochian, which damages Sam's internal organs when he speaks it, especially his throat.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

Sam sighs as he looks at Dean, lying still on the bed. Jesse'd put him in stasis once the ritual was done, and Sam had ushered the teens out to rest and clean themselves up while he calls on the angels to heal Dean. Sam closes his eyes and prays.

"Hey Cas? It's, uh, it's done. The ritual worked. If you - or an angel with their own grace - could come down and help, that would be awesome. Please. Amen."

There's silence following Sam's short prayer, and Sam remembers when he returned from the Cage, how much he begged and pleaded and screamed for Cas to come down, for _anyone_ to come down and give him some answers, some idea of where to _look_ for answers. There's another reason he sent the teens away; he doesn't want them to have to see him desperate and begging anymore than they already have. And if his past is any indication, he has a lot of praying and begging to do before an angel answers him.

Sam closes his eyes again, bowing his head and resting his forehead against his clasped hands. "Cas, if you can hear me, it's Dean. He really needs you, Cas, there's not much left that I can do. _Please_, Cas, I know I have no right to ask this of you after everything you've already sacrificed for us, I know how busy you are -"

Sam looks up sharply at the soft sound of wings, and Castiel and Hannah stand before him.

Well. That's unexpected.

"Cas - uh. Hi. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything…"

Castiel shakes his head. "How's Dean?"

Sam gestures to the bed behind the angel. "Jesse put him in stasis. He needs healing once we take it off, or - or he'll…"

Sam trails off, but Castiel and Hannah know well enough what he means.

"I will do what I can," Castiel replies with a nod. "Hannah…"

Hannah looks dubiously between Sam and Dean, and Castiel presses. "Please."

Hannah nods, and Sam steps back. He feels relief rush through him as Dean's wounds start to heal under the golden light coming from Hannah and Castiel's palms, their grace pushing past Jesse's stasis field and pulling Dean back to the world of the living.

It's over. It's finally over.

He's finally done something right.

"He'll be asleep for a few more hours for the healing to take," Hannah warns, and Sam nods.

Sam sees Cas' hand coming towards him and rears back sharply. "Cas, what are you doing?"

Cas looks hurt for a moment, then guilty, remembering what happened the last time he touched Sam without warning. "You are severely injured, Sam. Let me heal you."

"What, this? Don't worry about it, Cas. It'll heal up fine on its own; don't waste your grace on me."

There's an expression on Cas' face that Sam doesn't quite recognise. It's similar to the one he wore when Gadreel begged him to spare him, but gentler. Cas huffs softly and reaches for Sam again.

"Cas - no - [_conserve your grace._]

Castiel freezes and Hannah looks like she might cry.

Sam swallows down the blood rising at the back of his throat and grimaces. "Uh. Sorry."

"You… no one has spoken that since Lucifer Fell," Hannah whispers.

Sam cringes slightly. "Yeah, well. I spent more than enough time with Lucifer and Michael to pick it up."

"You are still suffering the aftereffects of the ritual," Castiel points out gravely.

Sam shrugs. "I'll be fine."

"If you will not let me heal you, then perhaps Hannah…?"

"Of course," Hannah agrees immediately, "I'd be glad to."

Sam glances at her dubiously, but then nods. "Thank you."

Hannah touches two fingers to his forehead and her grace washes over him, cold as ice and he's back in the Cage, no, no, he can't do this again, _mercy mercy please mercy -_

"Sam?!"

- _Whatever you want please have mercy I beg of you -_

"Sam!"

Sam crashes to his knees, the pain from hitting the hardwood floor jarring him back to the present. There's blood dribbling down his chin and his throat burns like acid, and his everything else still hurts.

_Fuck._

"What - what happened?" Hannah whispers, and now she actually is crying.

"I - I'm sorry," Sam mutters, straining against the urge to bow, press his forehead against the floor and beg for mercy.

Too close. After everything, the Cage is far too close.

"Your grace," Sam rasps, trying to swallow back the blood, "It's - cold. Like Lucifer's. I -"

Sam drops his gaze, focusing on the feel of the floor under his knees, the rough scratch of denim under his palms, the firm press of the bandages around his ribs.

Focus.

Control.

"Perhaps we should call someone else," Castiel murmurs.

"It's fine," Sam replies slowly, "Like I said, this will heal up in a few weeks."

"We're angels, Sam," Hannah answers softly, "Our purpose is to aid and protect humans. Please, let us do this."

Sam wants to protest, say that he doesn't fall under that mission, that he doesn't deserve it, _why should he when he's the Abomination, a creature of filth and sin,_ but Castiel and Hannah have already turned away, calling for another angel.

There's the flutter of wings, and another woman appears in the room.

"I'm not healing him," Flagstaff says flatly, and Sam lowers his head in acceptance. Someone understands. If he just stays here, perfectly still, maybe they'll get bored and leave. It's worked before, sometimes.

"We're not asking you to heal Dean," Cas says mildly, "It's Sam who needs help."

Sam can see Flagstaff turn towards him at the edges of his vision, and he clenches his fists, keeping his head bowed. There's a part of him crying that _he's not in the Cage anymore, he's not, he's not,_ and he needs to think past the gibbering fear of angels surrounding him, because they're not Michael and Lucifer, they're not going to hurt him, _they're not - _but he _deserves_ it, the sinner, the failure, the damned.

Flagstaff touches two fingers to his forehead, and Sam tenses, waiting for the pain -

- It never comes. Flagstaff's grace isn't hot or cold, it's like a distant storm, power contained and safety. Her grace washes through him, pushing back the memories of the Cage enough for him to think clearly.

Wow. His self-control is total shit.

Sam breathes deeply as the pain across his body fades, bruises and cuts and cracked bones healing. He peels off the dressing on his eye, and blinks up at Flagstaff, taking her outstretched hand to help him stand.

"Thank you," he says fervently.

Flagstaff looks at him consideringly and then glances at Dean. "No, Sam. Thank _you._"

"What did her grace feel like?" Hannah asks curiously.

Flagstaff's brow furrows, and Sam blinks. "Ah, sheet lightning - faraway sheet lightning, before the storm hits, y'know? Were you close to Raphael?"

"Yes," Flagstaff admits, surprised, "Sensing the nuances of an angel's grace is a rare talent."

Sam shrugs uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. Michael and Lucifer had to be good for something."

* * *

"So that was Sam Winchester. To be honest, he's not what I expected."

Castiel looks Flagstaff sharply. "Sam is a good man. He is more than the abomination, more than Lucifer's vessel."

Flagstaff inclines her head. "I'm amazed he's related to Dean."

Castiel's jaw clenches, but there's not much he can say in the face of Dean having been a demon.

"He was afraid," Flagstaff muses sadly, "So afraid. He… He mistook us for our brothers, didn't he."

Castiel nods. "It's very likely. Memories of the Cage are a constant presence in Sam's life, more so now that he's using the knowledge he gained there."

"I'm amazed he'll let an angel near him after what he's suffered," Hannah admits, "It's a miracle."

Castiel smiles. "_Sam_ is a miracle."

* * *

Sam glances back at his sleeping brother, smiling slightly. "It's gonna be okay, Dean. I promise."

He strips off the rest of his bandages, relaxing at the sight of his unmarred skin. Bearing the scars from when Dean - from when he was strung up in front of Dean - will just make moving forward harder for the both of them. There's already so much between them that needs to be resolved, adding another piece of baggage between them isn't going to help anything.

He steps outside Dean's room and nearly walks into the angels still standing outside. "What - Uh, you guys are still here?"

Flagstaff looks him over, assessing him, and Sam almost feels the faint stirring of her under his skin. Hannah smiles slightly. "We wanted to see if there was anything else you needed. The children -"

There's a distant crash from elsewhere in the bunker and Sam's brow furrows. Are the teens still around? He sent them home long ago. "Wait, the kids are still here?"

Castiel looks at him oddly. "You didn't know they were still in the bunker?"

Sam shakes his head. "I sent them home before I started praying -"

There's another crash, followed by Ben's shout and Jacob's colourful swearing, and Sam winces. "I should go make sure that they don't break anything else."

The angels follow Sam as he makes his way through the corridors, and draw short at the scene in the common area.

"_Boys._" The stern voice of Jody Mills snaps, "Separate. _Now._"

Ben and Jacob, having broken one of the tables, look up from their roughhousing on the floor rebelliously, and then quail at her look. "Yes, Ma'am."

Sam clears his throat. "Uh. Hi, guys."

The younger hunters turn and look up at his arrival, their faces lighting up. "Sam!"

"Oof," Sam grunts lightly as Claire and Jesse tackle him in a hug.

"You're all better!"

Sam smiles. "Yeah, good as new. What's going on here?"

"We were waiting for you…" Claire's attention shifts to the angels standing behind Sam and the smile drops from her face. "Oh. Who are _you?_"

Sam winces slightly. "They're friends, Claire."

"Friends of yours, or friends of the douchebag's?"

Sam glances at the angels, unsure whether he can claim Hannah and Flagstaff as _friends_. "Flagstaff healed me, and Cas and Hannah healed Dean."

Jacob snorts and Ben rolls his eyes. "Did you have to?"

Jody clears her throat from behind them, and they shoot up to their feet immediately, contrite. Sam rubs his forehead. "How did you two break the table _again?_"

"He started it!" Ben and Jacob protest immediately, pointing at each other.

"I don't care _who_ started it," Jody responds before Sam can roll his eyes, "_Both_ of you are fixing it."

"But Jesse can do that in, like, a second," Ben points out.

"I will _not!_" Jesse replies, outraged.

Before anyone else can chime in, Claire's angel blade appears in her hand, pointed directly at Castiel's heart. "You. Back away from Sam."

Sam's eyes widen, and he glances back at Castiel, who looks chagrined. "Cas isn't going to hurt me, Claire."

"Like he _didn't hurt_ my Dad?"

Castiel's mouth turns down at the corners, and Sam winces.

"Eh, Flagstaff might be okay," Jacob offers, coming up behind his girlfriend, "She did heal Sam. The other two can fuck off."

"Manners, Jacob," Jody warns, but it lacks the severity of before.

Hannah gasps. "Who are you to - Castiel is a hero!"

"He's a douchebag," Jacob and Claire replied bluntly.

"And we're Sam's kids," Jesse replies, still holding onto Sam, "As good as, anyway."

"Claire, we weren't able to find the - whoa, we interrupting something?"

Everyone turns to see Tracy, Krissy, and Alex entering from the library, and Sam's eyebrows rise. "Wasn't expecting to see you guys here."

Tracy shrugs. "I wanted to raid your library."

Krissy and Alex elbow her in the side, and Krissy replies, "We heard you fixed Dean, so we wanted to see how things were going."

Sam blinks. "… That was fast."

Ben grins. "The wonders of modern technology, man. Word's spreading through the entire community right now, news'll make its rounds over the next few weeks."

Sam shakes his head. "You guys didn't have to do that. Dean and I'll be fine, you didn't have to come all the way out here."

No one seems very impressed with Sam's response, and Jacob turns on Castiel. "Pay attention, douchebag. This is what you and your demon not-boyfriend have done to the man who saved the world."

Castiel looks stricken, and Flagstaff and Hannah are exchanging wary glances. Sam bites back a groan. "Jacob, Claire, go help Tracy find the book she wants."

Claire sends one last glare at Castiel and then turns away.

Jacob points at the dark-haired angel. "You come within ten feet of my girlfriend, and I won't stop her from stabbing you in the heart, understand?"

_"Jacob."_

"I'm going, I'm going."

Sam rubs his forehead again, absently tousling Jesse's hair as the younger boy remains attached to his side.

Hannah stiffens. "Dean is waking up."

"Already?!"

"So much for sleeping for a few hours," Sam mutters under his breath. "Ben, Jesse, Krissy - look out for Jody and Alex."

"What -"

"Sam, we can help -"

"No," Sam replies firmly, "If something's gone wrong, I don't want any of you getting caught in the crossfire."

"Sam!" Jesse protests, but Sam's already striding away, angels following in his wake.

* * *

Dean wakes up in his room in the bunker and blinks.

Is this it? Is this his heaven?

He gets off his bed and stands, stretching his sore muscles. Okay, probably not Heaven, then. The last thing he remembers is getting stabbed by Metatron, and Sam…

… And Sam refusing to let him die.

Dammit.

It's like Hell all over, demons and lies and making stupid choices without knowing the consequences. "Dammit, Sam," he growls under his breath.

The door to his room slams open, and Dean barely hears Cas saying 'He's human, Sam,' before he's being hugged tightly by 6' 4" and 210 lbs of relieved plaid - and unexpectedly bony - hunter. He hears a whispered 'Thank God' in his ears as his arms come up slowly. Whatever trouble the kid's gotten himself into now by bringing Dean back, he's still his little brother, and his instinct is still to hug back.

Sam pulls away, a smile spreading across his face as he looks Dean over. "It's good to have you back, Dean."

Dean almost lets it go, seeing the relief and joy on his little brother's face, but then steels himself. Whatever trouble the kid's gotten into now, they need to get ahead of it immediately. "What did you do, Sam?" he demands.

Sam looks confused, and dammit, this is just like coming back from Hell all over again, Sam thinking Dean would never find out about his dumbass choices if he was just _happy_ enough. "What - what do you remember, Dean?"

"I remember Metatron stabbing me in the chest. I remember telling you to _let me go,_" Dean sneered. "But we can all see how _that_ went."

The expression falls away from Sam's face. "… Oh."

"Yeah, _oh._ After all that shit you gave me about what I did to save your life -"

"You turned into a _demon_, you stupid ape!" a woman barks, and Dean turns to see the others gathered at his door. Cas stands with two female angels, one striding towards him angrily. "You took on the Mark of Cain, fell under the Blade's lure like a _child_, and turned into the worst of demons. You left a trail of bodies, until your brother nearly destroyed himself and _saved_you, and _this_ is how you thank him?!"

"Who the Hell are you?" Dean snaps.

"This is Flagstaff, Dean," Sam cuts in quickly, "She's a friend of Cas'."

Flagstaff, right. The bitchy angel with a stick up her ass that Cas asked him to interrogate.

"I'm supposed to believe this bullshit?"

"She's right, Dean," Sam says softly, and holds out his phone. "It's been nearly two months since we fought Metatron. I'll tell you the details if you want, but… it was rough, man."

Sam looks so tired, and Dean feels his ire rise. Where does he get off looking like that, when Dean's one with his world being shaken?

Flagstaff scoffs. "I'm returning to my post. Hannah?"

Hannah nods, a little unsure. "I think it would be best. We'll see you when you're done here, Castiel."

Cas nods, and Sam smiles slightly. "Thanks again, for everything."

Flagstaff and Hannah nod, before disappearing with the soft flutter of wings.

Dean turns to Cas. "Is it true?" he pleads, "Did I really…"

Dean sees Sam slump in the corner of his vision, and resists the urge to snap again. What, he's not allowed to get a second opinion? God knows Sam's an unreliable narrator.

Cas nods sadly. "I'm sorry, Dean. We couldn't get to you before Crowley."

"_Crowley_ got to me?! Where the Hell is that smarmy bastard -"

"I, uh, I think you killed him, actually," Sam cuts in.

Dean turns to him in shock. "Come again?"

Sam shrugs. "No one's seen or heard from him since you - since you changed, not even demons."

Dean huffs a laugh. "At least something good came out of it. So how'd you bring me back, Sammy? A deal? Demon blood? What mess are we in now?"

"Dean -" Cas interrupts, brow furrowed, "Sam did nothing that would land you or him in more danger."

Dean's eyebrows rise, and he looks at Sam expectantly.

Sam rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "I and some other hunters got a spell from Cain. Hebrew, Aramaic, Cuneiform, Higher Enochian - old, old spells and warding. It took some doing, but we made it work in the end."

"You went to Cain. And you didn't think that would end badly."

Sam snorts. "All he wanted was to die. And when we destroyed the First Blade, he died with it."

Dean looks down at his arm, rolling up his sleeve to see bare skin where the Mark of Cain used to be. There's a faint rush of disappointment at the loss of that kind of power, but Dean pushes it away. He's out of the frier, no sense jumping back into the fire.

"I should get back," Cas says reluctantly. "It's good to have you back, Dean."

Dean grins and claps his friend on the back. "It's good to be back, man. You go whip those angels into line."

Castiel smiles slightly and disappears.

Dean turns back to Sam. "So, what've we got to eat around here?"

* * *

"Things are a little chaotic in the bunker right now, sorry," Sam apologises as they make their way through the corridors.

Dean smirks. "I disappear for a few weeks, and you start throwing keggers in my absence, Sam?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "A couple other hunters stuck around to make sure everything went okay."

Sam and Dean return to the common area to find Jacob attempting to screw one of the table legs back in place under Alex's watchful eye, while Claire and Jesse argue animatedly over a book.

Jacob's the first to notice them. "Head's up, everyone's favourite emotionally abusive murderer is back," he calls out, and the other stop what they're doing and look up.

"Jake…"

Dean frowns. "The Hell did you say to me, punk?"

Jacob shrugs and sits up. "You did kill my mother, I don't know what else you expect me to call you."

Sam places a hand on Dean's shoulder before he can move towards Jacob, and Jesse attempts to diffuse the rising tension. "Sam, Claire doesn't believe me that Temeluchus was an angel of judgment."

Sam blinks. "That's because he wasn't - not in the end, anyway. After that long in Hell, he turned away from his purpose as God's arbiter of judgment and just tortured souls as a demon."

"Was?"

"How do you even _know_ that?" Dean asks, bewildered.

Sam shrugs. "I killed him."

Everyone stares at Sam. Sam's lips twist wryly. "He took on the name Alistair. Hell's best torturer."

Dean's expression blanks beside him, and Jacob makes a strangled noise. "Dude. How have you not taken over the world yet?!"

Sam rolls his eyes, moving into the room. "Sure, Jake. I'll get right on that. Where's everyone else?"

"Jesse told us everything was okay, so Tracy disappeared into the stacks, and everyone else went to make lunch."

Dean frowns. "Jesse… Wait, Jesse Turner, the Antichrist?!"

Jesse waves.

"What the Hell, Sam, one monster wasn't enough for you?"

"They're not monsters, Dean," Sam replies evenly, stepping in front of Jake and Jesse, ready to shield them, "They're good kids."

Dean scoffs.

Sam gestures towards Jacob. "Jake, give me the screwdriver. You're never going to get the leg standing evenly that way."

"Oh thank God," the teen mutters, scrambling away from the table.

"And do not attempt to kill Dean while my back is turned," Sam warns.

"You never let me have any fun!"

"Would you rather I made you run laps for breaking the table - did you wrap this with Scotch tape?!"

"No, Sir!"

* * *

Tracy reappears later, after Sam's dragged Jacob back into fixing the table, and Dean watches them from the other table, leaning back in his chair, legs propped up on the table.

"Can I borrow this?" Tracy asks, holding up a book.

Sam turns to her and frowns. "Uhh… Do you read Spanish?"

"Pretty well, yeah."

"Use the Spanish version, it was updated last year."

Tracy flashes him a smile. "Got it."

"Just make a note that you're taking it," Sam calls out as she disappears into the stacks.

"Since when did we become a library?" Dean demands as he rights his chair and puts his feet back on the ground. "I thought she hated you, anyway."

Sam shrugs, smiling awkwardly. "It's been an interesting few weeks."

The voice of boy singing 'YMCA' slightly out of tune floats down from near the kitchen, and Jacob calls out, "You sound like a dying cat, Braeden!"

Dean stiffens. 'YMCA' goes sharply out of tune and actually _does_ sound like a dying cat, and Claire slaps her boyfriend upside the head.

Ben appears at the mouth of the corridor, carrying a nearly empty bag of kale. "Hey, Sam, we're going to run out of -" Ben stops abruptly, his expression shutting down. "Oh. _You_."

Dean shoots to his feet and stares at him, eyes wide. "… _Ben?!_"

Ben gives him a cold once-over and turns sharply on his heel. "I'm going back to the kitchen."

"Ben -"

Ben flips him off over his shoulder without looking back.

Dean rounds on Sam furiously. "What the _Hell_, Sam?! I warned you -"

"I really don't think you want to punch your brother in the presence of two _monsters_ and a hunter who would happily kill you to protect him," Jesse comments serenely.

Sam gives a long-suffering sigh and buries his head in his hands. How, exactly, did he wind up with these kids?

Dean growls and looks at the teens gathered around him. Alex is the only one not glaring daggers at him, but the former blood slave doesn't exactly look friendly, either. Fucking Hell. After Ruby and Madison, he really should know the company Sam prefers to keep.

Dean unclenches his fist and drops back in his chair, glaring churlishly.

* * *

"So, how's school going, Krissy? You been on any good hunts lately?"

Lunch is an awkward affair, despite Jody and Sam's valiant affairs to prevent it. Jesse's sitting cross-legged along with Tracy on the table, while Claire sits on a nearby couch, with Jacob perches on the armrest. Ben and Krissy are perched against the table beside Jesse, with Ben glaring at Dean and Krissy refusing to meet his eyes.

Sam's not sure if Ben and Krissy are still doing their dating-not-dating thing, but from the way Krissy keeps reaching for Ben's arm, they might be. Alex sprawls out at the feet of Claire's chair, in a habit no one is entirely comfortable thinking about where she picked up.

Krissy nods, staring down at her food. "School's going good. Jo and I tackled a rougarou out west a while back, Jo's graduation celebration."

Dean frowns. "Everything alright, kid?"

"You mean apart from you trying to torture and kill her?" Jacob says brightly, eyes glittering with malice.

Dean looks at Krissy sharply. "Krissy? Did I…?"

Krissy nods and then squares her shoulders, finally meeting Dean's gaze. "It was - yeah. You did. You were a demon, and you needed our blood for some ritual -"

"Krissy, what I did back then - you gotta know that wasn't me," Dean pleads, "You know I would never hurt you!"

"That's what I thought, too, Dean," Krissy replies unhappily, "I trusted you - and you tried to kill me. If it wasn't for Sam, I'd be dead right now. Tracy and Claire, too."

Dean looks stunned and distressed. "Krissy -"

Tracy sets down her plate and snorts, hopping off the table. "Yeah, I don't have to listen to this bullshit anymore. Thanks for lunch, guys, but I'm gonna head out. Krissy, you coming?"

"Yeah." Krissy nods. "Thanks for lunch, Jody, Sam." She glances back at Dean. "It's good to have you back, Dean. Stay out of trouble."

"Thanks for the books, Sam," Tracy adds, picking up the stack of books.

"Wait -"

Tracy hisses and wrenches Dean's hand away from her before he can touch her, nearly breaking his wrist. "You don't get to touch me. Not after what you did!"

Dean rears back, and Sam sighs. "Tracy, Dean doesn't remember anything from the last few weeks, remember?"

Tracy sneers. "Well that's fan-fucking-tastic for him, but it doesn't change the fact that I've still got a gash up the back of my arm that _he_ put there."

Sam immediately frowns, standing and moving towards her. "Did it get infected? Do you need the stitches replaced?"

Tracy blinks and shakes her head. "What? No, they're holding. If this hunting thing doesn't work out for you, Sam, you should think about becoming a surgeon."

Sam chuckles. "I'll keep it in mind."

Tracy and Krissy are gone before Dean can formulate a response.

"Jody, can we head out, too?" Alex asks, clambering to her feet.

Jody frowns slightly, but nods. "Once the clean-up's done, sure."

"Don't worry about that," Sam replies easily, "Ben'll take care of it."

"I what?!" Ben demands, outraged.

Sam looks at him evenly. "Jake fixed the table, you get to clean it."

Ben opens his mouth to protest, but promptly shuts it under both Sam and Jody's disappointed parent looks. They're as bad as his Mom's used to be, maybe even worse.

"I'll give you guys a lift," Jesse adds, taking Alex's hand as he gets down from the table.

Jody smiles and hugs Sam. "You take care of yourself, alright? Try not to get killed for at least a month."

Sam grins. "I'll do my best. Scout's honour."

Jody turns and hugs Dean as well. "And you, stay out of trouble, Mister."

Dean smirks. "Yes, Ma'am."

Alex squeezes Sam's hand with half a smile, and then reaches back for Jesse.

They're gone in a flash of shadow.

* * *

Ben, Jake, and Claire staunchly refuse to leave Sam alone with Dean, ignoring Sam's attempts to assure them that he'll be fine.

"Let's run down the last few weeks, shall we," Jacob snaps when they're in the library, "Dickbag over there turned himself into a demon, killed a bunch of people, tried to kill you and Ben, killed more people, tortured and tried to kill you, went back to killing people until you undemonified him. Did I miss anything?"

Claire pinches the bridge of her nose as Ben adds, "You missed the whole Sam nearly destroying himself to save him to the point that even angels noticed it and yonder asshole still being an ungrateful dick in denial about it."

Jacob nods. "Thank you."

Sam groans, burying his head in his hands. "Oh my God."

"This is none of your business!"

Claire grabs Jacob's arm before he can lengthen his nails into claws. "You running around trying to kill people I care about is _damn well_ my business," Jacob retorts.

"That wasn't me!" Dean protests.

"Really? Because it sure as Hell looked and felt like you when we pinned your sorry carcass down so Jesse and Sam could destroy the Mark," Ben snarls.

"I would never - that was the demon, the Mark, alright? I wasn't me, I would _never_ have done any of that!"

"The Mark turned you into something you weren't," Sam replies gently, "I get that."

Jacob sputters in Claire's grip. "Oh my God - _Oh my god, _I can't be hearing this. _Sam!_"

"Jacob," Claire warns, tugging on his arm again, and Ben looks back warily, but Jacob bulldozes on, his voice rising in fury.

"He _tortured_ you for two fucking hours, tried to shove demon blood down your throat - _you were in bandages and couldn't see out of one eye for two weeks because of him_. That was all him - _he's_ the one who turned into a demon because he has the fucking 'heart of a killer' or whatever - have some self-respect, Sam!"

"_Jacob!_" Ben and Claire snap.

Jacob grinds to halt and finally sees what his anger had missed - Sam's shoulders hunched slightly, his expression blanking as he draws into himself. His breath catches in his throat. "Sam - I -"

Dean snorts. "I told you, kid, this ain't any of your business -"

"Dean," Sam cuts in, steeling himself, "He's not completely wrong."

Dean's eyes widen. "What the Hell -"

"Look, what you did because of the Mark - that's over. But what lead up to that - that's still not okay, Dean. I put it aside to fight Metatron, to save you, but that doesn't mean it's gone."

Dean scowls. "This again? I saved your life, Sam!"

"Your definition of 'saving' is bullshit if it covers torture and mind-rape, asshole," Ben snarls. His lips twist into a bitter smile. "But that's not really new territory for you, is it?"

Dean rears back slightly. "I was doing it to protect you!"

Ben rolls his eyes and turns away.

"Look," Sam says evenly, drawing Dean's attention to himself, "I didn't come here to pick a fight."

"Yeah, sure."

"Dean -"

"Whatever," Dean says abruptly, pushing away from the table and standing. "You want to hold a grudge, fine. You know where to find me when you put on your big boy panties and remember that I _saved your life_ and have _always_ been there for you."

Sam's expression blanks completely. "Look, this conversation isn't getting us anywhere. Get some rest, Dean. I'll come get you for dinner."

Claire slips her hand into Sam's as they leave the library, Ben and Jacob flanking them like bodyguards. They can feel Dean's glare burning into their backs, but if it hits them, maybe it won't hit Sam.

Maybe they can spare him that, at least.

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message. You can find more of my thoughts on Sam Winchester in my 'Sam Winchester' tag on my Tumblr (linked in my profile).

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in my tag 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting'.


	13. The Failure of Apples

A/N: Based on a prompt I got on Tumblr about Claire Novak and scoliosis. Turns out the whole 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away' thing doesn't work on scoliosis.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Sam would get a ton more screen time, meaningful relationships with other characters, and Jess. Jess would come back.

But that is neither here nor there, so please, sit back and enjoy!

* * *

"This is going to be the end of my hunting career, isn't it?" Claire said softly.

Jacob squeezed his wife's hand reassuringly, intertwining their fingers and lifting them to kiss her wedding ring. "Hey, you're gonna be fine, okay? Now you'll just have more time to kick ass in the courtroom."

Claire laughed lightly. "You remember when I first told you about it? You squeaked like a little girl."

"I did not!"

* * *

"Do you think I could use my scoliosis as a 'significant challenge I have overcome'?"

Jacob blinked and sat up from where he had been sprawled across Claire's carpet. "You have scoliosis?"

Claire huffed and looked up from her laptop screen. "I guess that's my answer."

Jacob frowned. "No, seriously, Claire. Scoliosis? That's the muscle degeneration thing, right?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "No, Jake, that would be MS - multiple sclerosis. Scoliosis is when your spine curves side-to-side."

"I - I didn't know…" Jacob replied in consternation.

Claire shrugged. "I never told you. Here, let me show you."

Claire turned, starting to pull off her T-shirt, and Jacob squeaked and immediately turned around, blushing furiously. "Claire! Warn a person!"

"… Jake. We have been dating for nearly two years. You don't need to have a crisis."

Jacob turned back around cautiously to see Claire with her back to him, and her T-shirt half-off. He could see it, the S-curve of her spine, where his went straight up in a line. He reached out tentatively, his fingertips tracing along the bumps of her vertebrae, and Claire twitched."

Jake jerked back. "Sorry! Did I -"

"Your fingers are cold," Claire mumbled, readjusting her T-shirt. "Anyway, that's all it is."

"… Does it hurt?"

Claire turned back to see Jacob looking at her with wide eyes, his forehead wrinkling.

… Holy cow was he good at recreating Sam's sad puppy look, how was she supposed to deal with that?!

Claire's expression softened and she bit down on a smile. "Sometimes. When I carry heavy stuff, or wear a heavy satchel too long. Sometimes when I sleep wrong, too. But it's nothing a good dose of ibuprofen can't deal with."

Jacob's puppy eyes got worse.

"Jake…"

"It's not fair," the other teen blurted out, "You shouldn't have to - after everything - you're one of the most amazing people I know - it's not fair!"

Claire suddenly found herself with her face pressed against Jacob's shoulder, his arms wrapped warm and tight around her. She smiled softly and returned his embrace, burrowing into him slightly. Jacob gave the best hugs.

"You'll tell me if it gets worse, right?"

"Yeah, Jake."

"You promise?"

Claire chuckled. "I promise."

Jacob hummed contentedly into her hair.

"… Can I go back to working on my Duke application now?"

* * *

Jacob pouted. "I did not squeak. It was a very manly sound of surprise."

"Mhmm," Claire replied with a grin. "Sure, Jake."

The door to the medical examination room opened, and a doctor in a while lab coat entered, holding several X-ray sheets. He gave Claire and Jacob a reassuring smile. "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Novak, I've got good news and bad news."

Jacob and Claire glanced at each other. "Bad news first."

The doctor pinned up the X-ray sheets to a lightboard. "The bad news is that your increased back pain is because of your scoliosis getting worse." The doctor gestured between two of the sheets. "This is your old X-ray, from when you were a teenager, and this is the one from last week."

Claire and Jacob could see that the sideways curve of Claire's spine had gotten more dramatic.

"The good news is that you won't need surgery," the doctor continued. "Scoliosis at this level can be managed with physical therapy and NSAIDs without dramatically affecting your quality of life."

Claire sent Jacob a 'see?' look at Jacob and nodded.

"I'll write you a prescription for 250 mg Naprosyn, to be taken with food twice a day, and we can increase the dosage if needed," the doctor said, scribbling on a sheet of paper, "I'm also going to refer you to a physical therapist, Angela Hawkins. You should get a call from her office in a day or two, but if you don't, just give us a call, and we'll try and sort it out."

Claire took the proffered sheet of paper.

"Since this is a prescription, I do have to warn you that Naprosyn is a Class C pregnancy risk - it shouldn't be taken during the third trimester. But I'm sure you already know that if you choose to have a child, your back pain is likely to be more severe than normal, so that's something to consider when it comes to your medication."

"That's something a while off for us yet," Claire replied, "But, yes, I'm aware."

The doctor nodded. "Well, then that's I'll have for you. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, thank you."

The doctor smiled. "Then I hope you enjoy the rest of your day."

* * *

Claire breathed in the cool evening air as she stepped out of the doctor's office. Jacob rubbed her back soothingly. "Hey. You doing okay?"

Claire smiled softly and turned towards him, accepting his kiss. "I will be. I always expected this day to come, and it's not as bad as it could be."

Jacob held his wife close. "You're the strongest woman I know. You're going to kick this thing's ass, and then go take over the world."

Claire laughed. "One step at a time, Jake. I have to take over the Cabinet first."

* * *

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please, let me know!

If anything in here stirs the need for discussion in you, shoot me a message.

You can also find snippets and headcanons for SWSH in my tag 'The Sam Winchester School of Hunting'.


End file.
